Sympathy For The Devil
by Femina Serpens
Summary: Draco must choose a profession soon or else Daddy Malfoy cuts off his bank account. He'll get more than he bargained for when becoming a personal stylist causes overnight stardom. Tempers will flare when he 'requires' Miss Hermione Granger's legal help to enact revenge on his #1 enemy, Blaise Zabini, the drama sweetened with a bet to make her over from a slippery old friend. AU.
1. I Don't Wanna Grow Up

_**PREMISE:  
**_

_If you're looking for anguish, you won't find it here. This is a fairly light-hearted, albeit dramatic, fic. If you'd like a more realistic, canon (Ie: angsty) one, please refer to **Head Versus Heart**, my other Dramione._

_The universe is modified a bit drastically, but there is no messing of time or supernatural changes;_

_Backstory:_

_Harry managed to kill Voldemort in the graveyard at the Tri-Wizard Tournament when their wands connected. Thus, Harry is still very much famous, he'll go down in history like Rudolph, but he did not have to suffer so much loss of friends and family, nor did anybody else. _

_Pretty much nobody died (hey, I said it was Potter-lite). Dumbledore, Fred, Dobby, Lupin, Tonks and Sirius are all still alive. As well as minor characters such as Colin Creevy, Hedwig and Crabbe. Cedric is the only sacrifice (sorry Cedric)._

_The students and the whole of Britain lived a fairly regular life after it all happened. OotP and HBP did not occur, and thus the characters mentalities are very much fixed as they were in the first few novels, save for the Trio, because there was no 'impending doom' and war time fatigue. There was also no tension and change of government so civil unrest wasn't major._

_I'm saying all this so you get the sense that everything is pretty normal for people now. The kids are 22 now, It's been almost 10 years after Voldemort's death._

_Lucius Malfoy was never reprimanded for being a Death Eater, Draco never became one. The older aristocracy remain strictly pro-pureblood, but the new generation are far more accepting of Muggle life and the people who go with it (though they would never tell their parents so) _

_The rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor still remains strong, even though it is 5 years after graduation._

_Presently, Hermione lives with Ginny, Ron with Harry. Draco lives at home, and Pansy alone._

_Hermione works for Magical Law Enforcement as a lawyer, Ron decided to pursue Healing, Harry has just graduated Auror training and Ginny is a stand-in chaser for the HolyHead Harpies._

_Pansy and Draco are unemployed._

_There will be plenty of mention of Muggle, and thus real world, items. if you don't like pop-culture references, you may not appreciate certain aspects of my fic.  
_

_You'll figure out the rest quite quickly._

_xox_

* * *

Chapter One: "I Don't Wanna Grow Up"

"Pansy, what exactly is the meaning of life?"

Pansy looked up from her half-empty café au lait and raised her eyebrows skeptically at Draco, who had uttered the question. He just entered the pub and was now scooting across from her into their booth.

"The meaning of life is to give life a meaning, idiot…You're really late," she added as an afterthought.

"_Hm_, that's strangely profound coming from you," he smirked at her. "And I'm late because my father wanted a little 'chat'."

Pansy glared at his less than kind response. "_Again_? Every time I see you you've just been speaking to him. Still trying to get you on board to the Malfoy Master Plan?"

"Know what you'd like?" came the voice of their male server. He had been leaning against the bar, extremely bored, waiting for guest number two at table 7 in the quite empty restaurant. It was only 4 pm, dinner rush wouldn't start for almost 3 hours.

"Hot chocolate, thanks. That's all." Draco gave the menu to the waiter who didn't try to mask the rolling of his eyes, and stalked away.

"_Hot chocolate_? How juvenile. Perhaps that's why your father wants a talk, mm?" Pansy smiled devilishly.

"God yes, that _is _why," Draco cried pathetically, throwing his hands up and then resting his chin on them. "You're on par with that plan notion. Seems to think that at 22 I should be some sort of social elite, involved in everybody's affairs and living on my own somewhere. Thinks I'm wasting my life."

Pansy kept grinning, knowing he had more to complain about.

"'Draco, do you think you can just sit here all day in the manor gallivanting around doing nothing?'" He began imitating his father's pretentious drawl. "'Son, what is the meaning of life? To be successful! So think about what you'll do to achieve that.'" He continued, exaggerating Lucius even more, a hand to his chest; 'The Malfoys are not in the spotlight as we once were, but you can fix that! Time to get a move on, time's a wasting.' Just, _ugh, _shut the fuck up!"

Lightly pounding his head on the table, Pansy watched on amused.

"Ah, so that's what spurred on the life question. You know you _are_ rather immature. Cussing like a troll, childishly mimicking your parents and being so unpunctual all the time. Twenty-two _is_ a bit old to stay home. Time to grow up a bit, perhaps? Move out and get a job," she teased.

"I'd be on time if I didn't keep getting cornered in my damn bedroom. The swearing won't stop, 22 is just the start of my life and like _you _have a job Miss Parkinson. Mum and Dad pay. I just see no point in leaving, you know? I don't need them to get me a poverty-stricken crappy apartment. I hardly will succumb to working myself."

"Do you _want_ to leave though?" Pansy asked, tilting her head and taking a sip from her mug. She'd been through this song and dance before. It always ended with Draco bitching and then rejecting all of her suggestions.

"Of course I do. I've said so before. But I must confess I'm still stuck in my fantasy land. I've deluded myself into thinking my life is fine, fun, and free when it's not. Day after day of walking around the grounds, flying on the grounds, or sitting in the house. Pretty much all I do is read or drink, I've probably finished half the library at this point. _So dull_."

"Well, obviously it's dull, you stay cooped up in there 24/7. You don't want to be entertaining guests at Malfoy Manor for the rest of your life, that already happens biweekly. And what about girls?" Pansy prodded bitingly. "Doesn't really scream responsibility bringing them back to your childhood bedroom, huh? Nice if you could move out."

He gave her a look. "Like I don't know that or haven't thought of it. But where would I live? Stodgy London with the common folk?"

"No, proper London. Where all the happening things and people are. You could move in with me til you find a place," she replied lightly, stirring her drink and staring down at the tablecloth. "I have 3 bedrooms and only one occupied."

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat but said nothing.

He was quite aware that she still fancied him, but he simply didn't reciprocate. Subtle and not so subtle hints had been dropped throughout the past 5 years since graduation but his feelings never changed. She glued to him at school and he lapped up the attention, he was a sucker for it. Romance had never blossomed for him, lust or otherwise, and he now felt a bit regretful that he hadn't been more clear about his intentions when he was 17.

"Or not, it was just a suggestion," she said calmly after a moment of silence. "Besides, it might be a bit odd having a male roommate. Doubt _Sergei_ would like it."

Besides the secret crush, Draco didn't like the fact that Pansy used men as a weapon against him, or that she slept with so many of them. He didn't know if she ever even liked them as people or if they just were playthings ready to be disposed of when she lost interest.

"Sergei, huh?" he laughed "That your flavour of the month?"

"No, we've been dating for a few weeks, about 6. Just haven't brought him up because of the _reactions _I get from the plebeians," she emphasized.

"Sorry, sorry. Just, you have a habit of bringing a different man along at every outing. They've never quite made the cut with the Slytherin crew. Thanks." The server had appeared again and dropped a delicious looking hot drink in front of him.

"Is that right? How would you know if they approve, you never go out with them unless I'm there," she fired back, getting visibly riled. "At least I _bring _partners out. You and Blaise are so damn picky. Surely if I can find some hot specimen you can _too_, or are you too wrapped up in that pureblood mumbo jumbo still? You've never even had a girlfriend, have you? All your dates didn't match up to the Draco Malfoy standards?"

Normally Draco would go off on her for being so rude for no reason, but he found himself too embarrassed. He'd actually never been on a date before, let alone kissed a girl besides Pansy (one time in sixth year). He tried to hide it; he was always self conscious that all his friends knew about his lack of finesse when it came to girls.

Everybody had hated his guts in school. It didn't help that his father got flak for being sighted in the graveyard with You Know Who, what a mess to clean up. After he realized that school ends and the real world was not as forgiving and protective as his little clique was, he became a lot less sure of himself.

Thankfully, now that the world seemed a happier place, a long time gone by, it was mostly just indifference and perhaps a grimace or two when he was spotted in the world.

Truth be told, he wasn't sure if there were a few people that severely disliked him because he was happy in his ignorance. He didn't want to try getting girls tight now, he was a coward. Never had to face his frenemies head on, only going went out when Pansy invited him.

Little did she know that his suffering was almost entirely his own fault. Playing the empathy card worked like a charm, yet he literally never left the house unless he was summoned. His father may be pushy and a bit misled about the family's current standing in the wizarding community, but Draco knew he was actually concerned for him and had no idea how to properly display it. His mother coddled him like a baby so she was not bothered in the slightest at having him be home all the time.

"I rarely go out with girls, Pansy." _Just you, _he thought. "And it's _Blaise, _he is the vainest person we know, of course he's picky."

At Draco's measured tone, Pansy flickered her gaze to him, surprised he didn't get more angry. She decided perhaps she should act more civil, did she touch a nerve?

"How are you doing with him anyways? Blaise? What about Vincent and Gregory?"

She couldn't help her wavy emotions really, lashing out and then acting concerned. Oansy found Draco both insufferable and endearing at the same time. He was horribly self centered and sarcastically judgmental.

But so was she.

And she cared about him, she knew he did too, otherwise he wouldn't bother coming to see her. He never saw anyone else from what she could tell, but that made it all the more frustrating. A massive desire was alight in her that she could not fully shake, she always would be attracted to him it seemed.

It didn't help she had hit her time of the month. Horny as ever, as well as temperamental, Sergei wasn't down for sex which pissed her off proper seeing as she usually got her way.

"Meh," he shrugged, stirring his drink. "Blaise never calls or asks me to go out. I have a few times with no response. Guess he wants to appear a good citizen like when he first snubbed me so long ago. He never really liked me anyways. And Crabbe and Goyle realized how much of a bully I was towards them, so I can't place blame on them actually being intelligent for once and avoiding me."

"I don't recall Blaise ever snubbing you," Pansy mused aloud, scrunching her features. "I know Theo always did, but…." She looked back up at him and he was frowning.

"Ugh, you call him 'Theo'? Revolting," he grimaced as he took a sip of his hot chocolate. He always hated Theodore Nott. "This is good, actually."

"What, he's a nice lad. Always has amazing parties because Astoria is great at planning them."

"Whatever you say….Anyways, as soon as he got invited to the Slug Club and I didn't, Blaise was a giant asshat. Told me my father was no good and that he needed to restrict who he associated with. Started seeing Mr. Nott like they were an item. How can you not remember that?"

"I don't keep track of your mundane memories, love."

"Well I'm starting to realize how few people actually like me. I've narrowed it down to you and my mother so far," he said morosely. "Everyone at school is out."

"God, you are dramatic. I thought you were more confident than that; Didn't you like to call yourself 'King of Slytherin' or whatnot?" She chuckled, signalling the waiter for a refill.

"Oh sweet _Merlin,_ no wonder everybody hates me," he covered his eyes with his palms. "I was such a dick, wasn't I?"

"Still are."

"Gee, _thanks._ Seriously though. Crabbe and Goyle were just cronies. You were just as bitchy as me, so you hung out for the torment with Millicent. And now even though you're attracted to my animal magnetism, you've made good acquaintances with the Greengrasses and clearly the Notts. Whereas I've regressed back into a child."

"Yes, well, turns out Millicent liked me a bit too much and I don't swing that way. She never talked to me after I rejected her," Pansy revealed uninterested, twisting her hair through her fingers as the waiter added more coffee.

Draco guffawed in disbelief. "Surely not? That's horrendous. Can you imagine fucking her? Little spindle like you with giant six foot her?"

"Oh stuff it, you git," she hissed, embarrassed the server heard him curse. "I felt really bad for once, actually. The look on her face when I was horrified at the prospect of us together… it takes courage to admit you like somebody after all…" she trailed off, then shook her head. "In any case, not the point. We're adults now. We're all friends now, we can get along. You'd do well to make nice to Theo and the rest. I know that he never particularly warmed to you but…."

"And he still hasn't, just like Blaise. It's unlikely that he'll ever want to know me properly, Pans. Nobody really does."

Pansy growled. "Because you never try to let them! You don't do anything worth noting, nobody hears from you or sees you, you show up to a party every once in a blue moon. It's not their fault, it's yours."

Draco ignored her. "Every time we meet up, you try to involve me in their world, and I tell you time and time again I don't want to end up like them. Like my dad. He's so worried about what he looks like and how he appears, it's a wonder he hasn't gone mad yet. That's all anyone ever cares about here. Am I pretty enough? Buff enough? Thin enough? Is the job I don't need impressive enough? Did my party have the sexiest napkin rings? The most pretentious _aperitifs_? Just _why? _Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't," Pansy states. "It's a popularity contest and we know it. But what else are we going to fill our time with? I said the meaning of life is to give life a meaning We're giving ours an interesting mystique. We're playing the game. I don't want a job, I have the luxury of not needing one. I'm going to fill my twenties with extravagance; trips, drinking, and sex. Because I can. You can view it as frivolity but I view it as taking advantage of what's in front of me."

Draco contemplated her for a moment.

"I'm just tired of how fake it is, you know? I thought I'd be doing something more interesting by now. Or else, I thought the parties would be never-endingly amusing. And after 19 they got boring as tits." Pansy tittered.

"There's more to life than parties Draco, and you only go to half. This is why a job or new change of pace would be good for you."

"I don't wanna grow up," he spat, slugging back his sugary drink. "Life's too short to be serious."

"You complain about being stuck at home but then won't try to leave the nest. I don't get you. What _do_ you want to do?" Pansy sighed, resigning once again in her fight to get Draco to take action.

"I want you to take a look at who just walked in," he snickered, switching the topic, leaning his head out of the booth and slamming his cup down.

Pansy swiveled very indiscreetly around to face the door.

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron and Ginny Weasley walked on through, opting to sit at the bar across from their table.

"I've not seen them in ages," Draco whispered. "Know what they've been up to, Madam Gossip?"

Pansy hesitated for a moment, wanting to revert back to discussing Draco's future, but she knew he wouldn't budge. Only when he was ready would things change, she just hoped they'd change soon.

"Potter and Weaselette are engaged. He's just become an Auror, she's a stand in for the Harpies. Um," she wracked her brain and prodded her forehead with her fingers trying to remember everything she knew about the infamous group. She read every issue of the _Prophet _and _Witch Weekly_. Most wizards had internet access nowadays too; Pansy tentatively had bought herself a brand new laptop to look at crappy tabloid blogs, though she didn't have the hang of it yet.

"Can't remember?" Draco quipped at her silence.

"I _think_…that Weasley works at St. Mungos, and Granger - God, Granger really needs to get help with that hair," Pansy smiled menacingly.

"They really haven't changed a bit," he noted, eyeing Hermione as she ordered Butterbeer while everyone else got a mixed drink, thinking she was far too uptight too function. "I'm delightfully glad Weasley the underachiever never became an Auror. That's a bit too much to rub in my unemployed face."

"Yes, well, he doesn't look quite as shabby. Neither does Ginny come to think of it. Must be nice for Mrs. Potter to have unlimited funds. She actually looks decent. But then, she always _was_ a looker," Pansy observed with scorn.

"Mm," Draco muttered noncommittally. It was no business of his to get involved in a woman's jealousy.

They watched as Harry and Ginny smooched, held hands and were generally a publicly appalling couple, clearly still lovestruck after 6 years together. Draco supposed that since at school Potter always got so much media attention, they'd have to save the precious moments where no camera or juvenile eyes were around to be cuddly and romantic.

On the other bar stools, Hermione and Ron were chatting lightly, ever-so-uncomfortable. It definitely looked like there was some history among them that wasn't fully mended. But they definitely were not an item.

"I wonder why they're here? The Knightsbridge wizarding community is minuscule and very private. Very exclusive and expensive, these houses and restaurants. Not that Potter is poor, but how would they know to come here? I read that they all lived in Kilburn. "

Draco shrugged. "Maybe they're meeting somebody."

"That must be it. Nobody just wanders into _Le Bilboquet, _which is what they've done. Must relish in the fame they receive," she sputtered enviously.

"Who knows. Anyways," he cleared his throat. "Anything planned? I'm rather turned off this place, and since you're not eating, maybe we should just exit before they spot us and hex us."

"Oh, alright. You're no fun. I want to see who they're waiting for if they're ordering drinks at 4 pm. How tacky."

"It _is_ a monday," Draco mused. In all honesty, he could've gneo for a rum and coke right then. "So what're we doing?"

At this, Pansy brightened. "Well, Draco. This weekend Blaise is having a yacht party in Brighton, you know I've never been! I was hoping you'd help me select an outfit for it," she said innocently as he groaned "What? You always seem to have the best taste when it comes to this, it's eerie."

"Yes, but you _always _make me sit for hours on end while you try on 50,000 dresses, and then I tell you that dress number 2 is great but , _no _, you insist on more changes even though you should know by now I'm right. Every time."

"Yes, but I have to make sure I didn't overlook a potential dress option. I need your input, I value it greatly. When you help me out I get a hundred compliments from both sexes, and I act like it was effortless. You know girls have a different sense of what's nice than boys."

"That's because boys would love seeing your tits an arse even if they can't have it. Girls like flaunting what they like about themselves, or at least their best assets, which is not always a sexy asset." She gave him another look, rolling her eyes.

"Okay thank you for that. Just come with me, geeze. This'll be your accomplishment for the week."

He exhaled, mildly insulted.

"_Fine." _

Secretly, he relished in the fact that she liked his taste. It was funny, matching clothes seemed to be the only thing he excelled at. He wasn't an idiot, but he was just good or average at charms, potions, and everything else that went along with magical life. He never fancied a ministry job, either. He often pondered in his bed at night about getting a muggle occupation, something fun. Like a filmmaker, an actor, a musician or a writer. Wouldn't it be hilarious for his pureblood, neurotic father to see him on some muggle billboard advertising his next a-list movie?

"Draco? Are you listening?" Pansy snapped her fingers to catch her friends attention.

"Sorry, thinking," he replied sheepishly.

Pansy clucked her tongue. "Get it together Malfoy. I was simply saying that we're going to Olivetti's, it's a nice Italian wizard shop only a 10 minute walk from round here."

"Why is Blaise having a yacht party in June? It's cold."

"It is _not. _And he said I could bring a guest. I thought perhaps you'd like to accompany me."

"Not likely. Vat about _Ser_-gei?" Draco exaggerated the name with a Russian accent.

"He'll be in St. Petersburg this weekend, visiting some family. I'm not making him Apparate back just for a 4 hour event. I'm not that needy or demanding."

"_Oh, I beg to differ.." _

"I heard that you cock. Now go pay for our drinks so we can leave." She was pointing slightly annoyed to the counter, wherein Draco grinned.

"Always so lovely and demure, you are." She stuck her tongue out at him . "And so ladylike."

He glanced to the bar, dreading potential eye contact with the Gryffindor crew. But he swung out easily, not wanting Pansy to think him afraid, and grabbed the wallet from his trouser pocket.

He strolled up, staring straight ahead, to his server, who was chatting up Harry now.

"Oh, that's hilarious, _ha ha." _ Draco grimaced at the forced laughter from the employee. He knew that as a worker he was supposed to suck up to his patrons, but he was doing it solely for the Chosen One's approval.

Harry, Ginny and the man flickered their gaze to Draco as he leaned against the bar, barging into their intimate conversation. It caused a chain reaction, Hermione and Ron swooping their heads. From the right of him he heard Ron whisper '_Malfoy?' _with contempt_, _but ignored it.

"Yes, what would do you want now? Water, perhaps?" The server asked mocking him, irritated. _Must be angry we didn't get some 1000 galleon entree, _Draco supposed.

"Well you would know we were finished if you'd actually been paying attention," Draco said coolly. "Just wanted a check."

The server flushed a bit, then tallied up the two things ordered with a flourish on his pad. He ripped it off vigorously and crumpled it into Draco's hand.

With a generous unwarranted tip, Draco left the receipt and money on the counter and turned around straight into none other than Remus Lupin. Their chests banged into each other, and Remus had fallen slightly backwards into his companion behind him, Sirius Black.

_Well, well, the whole gang is here, aren't they? _was what crossed Draco's mind as he regained balance._  
_The extravagant place had been obviously picked by Sirius, who while very laidback was always one for a nice outing. Pansy noticed that every time he and his school friend appeared in the paper he was in a lush, expensive location. And they always were enjoying an alcoholic beverage.

Sirius caught Lupin gently by the shoulders, sniggering. In fact, Draco heard Pansy echo his second cousins laugh over at their table. He tossed a glare at her before straightening up. It was unnerving seeing these two adults, a pleasant ex-teacher who favoured his class rival, and a family member who rightfully thought he was a dunce, in the same locale as his old enemies.

"Excuse me," Draco said politely before zooming back to familiar company. Remus merely nodded, raising his eyebrows.

"Alright, Draco?" he heard Sirius yell raucously. Harry and Ron laughed.

Draco heard Lupin scold him without turning his back; '_Now, now_'.

Deciding on keeping tact, Draco almost wanted to call back a 'Quite'. Honestly though, he was not quite alright, he was bored and tired.

"Shall we?" he asked Pansy, who was now standing up and adjusting her flouncy skirt.

"I'm so going to tell Blaise about you falling into Mr. Wolf over there," she announced quietly, still highly entertained.

"Oh are you now? Well if you want me to go to this party with you and help you pick out something fabulous you damn well better keep your trap shut," he replied monotone, hoping to frighten her without seeming too affected.

Two could play the manipulation game, Pansy was well versed in the rules. She merely squealed and clapped her hands, not letting the bad part get to her. "Yay! So you _will_ come! Oh you can get something nice and new too, yeah?"

"You are absolutely intolerable sometimes."

"But you love it, don't you?" she asked, as if she was asking if he loved _her._

"Not really, reminds me too much of myself."

She punched his bare arm as they walked out onto the street, the sunlight bathing their faces. Draco enjoyed the shift in temperature immensely, the air far less stuffy than inside a building.

_Hmm, perhaps it would be nice to get some nice sea air. _  
Draco began to be slightly roused at the idea of showing up to Blaise's party, no doubt unwanted. He never knew what it felt like to be a gatecrasher, but he'd love to wipe the smirk of his uptight 'friends' faces for once and let loose.

His manor walls were getting much too uninspiring.  
There was a shift in Draco's mind, he could sense it. Yes, this summer was going to be a season of difference in his life.

Definitely not time to grow up, but time to do something…_outrageous_.

He pondered this as they strolled down the street, listening to Pansy's inane chattering about yachts on the way.

Back inside the topic of conversation would've surprised the Slytherin's who just left, as it was exactly the same as theirs.

"I haven't seen Malfoy in _years," _Ginny was exclaiming incredulously, chuckling about the expression on Draco's face when he bumped into Professor Lupin.

"Nor have I, Pansy either come to think of it," Harry agreed. After a moment of thought his happy smile turned into a frown.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Sirius asked, noticing his godson's change in demeanour, grabbing his scotch on the rocks.

"Nothing of your concern, just, you think they're going to be at Blaise Zabini's boat thing on Saturday?"

"God, are we really going to go to that?" Ron moaned, hating the idea of dressing up for the sake of impressing people he didn't care about.

"Yes, it would be impolite not to considering he personally extended an invitation to all of us," Hermione explained like he was daft.

"A _personal _invitation?" Remus whispered, widening his eyes as he chanced a look at Sirius who was smirking.

"I thought it sounded fun," Ginny shrugged. "Drinks and sea air, a different city, what's not to like?"

"Exactly. And to answer the question; of course they'll be there. They're in Slytherin."

"Yeah but, remember that he hated Malfoy as much as we did? At least near the end of school, when we all grew up. I don't know about Pansy, but I was under the impression that he was inviting only a select amount of people," Harry explained.

"My my, private parties, personal invites, aren't you all the spitting image of society's elite. How…_reminiscent_," Sirius crooned, sticking out his tongue to let them know he was joking.

"Just because you're _jealous _we get to go on a yacht doesn't mean you have to be mean," Ginny jabbed, returning the tongue waggling and sipping on her cocktail. She always liked to fire back at him, she found it fun, and Sirius highly respected her for her nerve.

"I'm not jealous, trust me. Especially if any blood family such as that klutz will be partaking."

"How is he related to you again?" Remus implored, always finding it a tad difficult to work out the Black Family Tree.

"_Narcissa_ is my cousin, which makes her spawn my _second_ cousin. Thankfully, I've only ever met him properly one time."

"Oh _yes, _now I remember, you inconsiderate weasel," Remus laughed.

"What happened? When did you meet him?" Harry asked interested. He thought Sirius told the _best_ stories.

"Well, I was visiting your parents, helping them before you were born; Lily was 8 months along. You're welcome by the way," he winked. "Draco had just been hatched and I was complaining to James that I had received an invitation plus guest to his christening, a serious fluke no doubt. James insisted we go, I'll admit we were curious about any devil that Lucius Malfoy would've produced. So we went, though your mother was against it. Said it was _rude_."

"Ooh, juicy, what happened?" Ginny urged, hoping this went somewhere hilarious.

"Lily was right. We were disappointed. Got there hoping to rile up Lucius with our presence but all we got were nasty looks. I noticed that Narcissa was extremely weepy and delighted, and for once Lucius didn't have a sneer on him because of the ugly looking thing, so we couldn't bring ourselves to make a ruckus. We were immature, I know," he admitted noticing the disapproving look on Hermione's face. "I do regret going actually, we had to stay on the Malfoy side of church, hoping my mum and dad wouldn't notice me. Kind of forgot they'd be there. The ringer was I caught Narcissa's eye before we got the hell out of there after the dry ceremony, and she looked _touched _rather than irate that I would come."

Remus was shaking his head. "You two were truly, _idiots."_

"Yes, but you love us," Sirius leaned in and wrapped his arm round Lupin, who tilted his head on his shoulder and grinned.

"Oh, I suppose."

"Get a room," Ginny giggled. "_Anyways, _who cares whether or not somebody we don't like goes to a party we're at? That's so juvenile."

"No, _Malfoy's _juvenile. Don't really want him belittling me and being a general arse when I'm trying to enjoy myself," Ron challenged quite bitterly. Hermione put a hand on his wrist and he immediately calmed.

"Yeah, I mean, he doesn't even have a job, does he?" Harry began. "Probably thinks he's too good for one. Never hear anything about him either, good riddance. I doubt he's a changed man. Probably will show up with Crabbe and Goyle in tow ready for the assault."

"Regardless," Hermione cut in, putting her hand up. "It's an unofficial Hogwarts five year reunion grad party. I want to see everyone, don't you? And _most _of the Slytherins have grown up, have upstanding positions or even live in London from what I hear. One person from a dumb house rivalry shouldn't spoil your night," she finished, trying to soothe the boys, and Ginny gave her a knowing grin.

"How do you know all that? How do you know anyone we like is coming?" Harry asked, still hesitant. "I mean, Blaise is a nice enough bloke, and he isn't like the rest of them. But he has a tendency to only associate with people he considers worthy, and I doubt _all_ of our friends would factor in there."

"_Wasn't too happy about inviting me_,_ that's for sure_" Ron muttered under his breath, secretly sour that Harry was an Auror and he wasn't.

"Well, I did a case for him a few months ago," Hermione replied a bit gently. "We've kept in touch."

"You _kept in touch?" _ Ron asked turning a bright red. "_Why?_ Why did he need legal help?_"_

After graduation, Blaise had decided not to take the route of so many of his companions. Though his mother was famous and had lots of gold, he wanted to be more than philanthropic. He wanted to be influential; remembered. He began a company that searched for rare ingredients for medicinal use: _Herbal Magic Inc_. Hermione explained all this to her friends, who looked amazed.

"Wait, so he's the one who supplies all of St. Mungo's potions?" Ron asked incredulously, who was using them daily at work. He was working part time as well as interning under the head nurse until he could move up to a full time job. He was so used to the bright red label for healing minor boils, he didn't even stop to think about it now.

"Yes. So what happened was that employees from one of his Italian sectors killed a few animals on the endangered species list without his authorization. To get at some kind of blood or poison antidote, a valuable potential material they could collect. Blaise updated his instructions to remove the animals beforehand but it didn't reach the hunters in time. He fired them immediately not wanting any trouble for it, obviously it's illegal, and they sued him. I was a bit reluctant to do the case, but he was really desperate about it, said he felt horrible that he was responsible for the damage to the animals."

"Ah, your weak spot," Remus noted, and Hermione tried not to blush.

"Yes, well, I managed to get him off the hook completely, he was really thankful. We talk sometimes," she finished nonchalantly. She didn't think it was a big deal really, but she knew everyone else did.

She knew Ron was jealous. Ginny made a fuss too come to think of it; every time she brought up a different boy she got all giggly. Especially Blaise. Ginny always teased her about knowing him.

She had to admit he was wildly handsome, but Harry _was _right. Pretty vain summed him up.

Very unlike Ron, who was her current situation. It was a rather exhausting ongoing thing in her life. She loved him dearly but he was far too clingy and their shared interests were minimal for it to work. Every time he went through a dry spell in the dating world he'd come running back to her, asking her out, a last resort. It pissed her off without a doubt, though she'd never say that to him aloud.

"How come we never heard about the case?" Harry dared to ask, confused. That was a large deal for Hermione, he thought, who had just begun to do cases altogether.

"You don't really inquire about my work, didn't come up I guess. Ginny knew." Ginny nodded.

"She tells me everything," Ginny bragged, leaning over her glass into her boyfriend.

"Remind me to ask about your job more. _And acquaintances,_" Ron muttered.

"Will do," she responded dryly.

"Well, this talk has been boring, did you want to get some food now and talk about something else? Have a seat?" Sirius asked trying to cut off the lingering tension between Ron and Hermione.

"Yeah, I'm starving," Remus grinned, patting his stomach.

"Sounds good. Hermione, want to go look for dresses after this? I don't think we'll get a chance this week, yeah?"

"Sounds good."

With Ginny by her side, she was feeling hopeful. She wanted to look awesome when she saw everyone. She felt decently successful with where she had gotten, she was content with her life. But she wanted to wow everyone on that boat in Brighton and she damn well needed all the help she could get.


	2. Boat In Brighton

Chapter Two: "A Boat in Brighton"

"Draco, I understand you're upset, but can't you talk to us?"

Draco, who was combing his hair in the foyer mirror of Malfoy Manor, merely glared at his reflection so the looming Lucius could see his silent response.

"Sweetheart, this is for your own good," Narcissa chimed in, walking over to her husband from the stairs and putting her hands gently on his shoulder.

"My own _good?" _he spat, anger boiling up inside of him. "What you're asking of me is _ludicrous."_

"It's _not_ ludicrous, son," Lucius replied, wearily rubbing his temples. He'd been trying to have a proper conversation for the entire day since he dropped the massive bombshell on Draco (with no avail). "You left school five years ago, we had high expectations for you that you are not living up to even a little bit. You should've foreseen this kind of discussion coming up."

"We still _do_ have those expectations_," _Narcissa piped up, swatting Lucius on the back and smiling at her darling boy.

"Yes, of course we still do. We're taking action for the very reason that we have faith. It's simply that you've done nothing useful since your graduation day. You're a bright young lad, passed all 8 NEWTs you took – "

"Seven, actually, but thanks for pointing it out," Draco said flippantly, adjusting his shirt.

"Regardless –what's the matter with you? You could be doing so much more with yourself. You're acting like a rebellious teenager; not an adult."

"What your father is trying to say Draco, is that we're worried about you. You stay in your bedroom all hours of the day, your friends never come over, if you go out it's only to party. You're wasting your life away. This is an intervention of sorts. It's necessary; for your own good."

"Yes, I heard you the first time," he exhaled. Suddenly the bell rang, and Draco was immensely relieved to have a way out of this conversation. "That will be Pansy."

Narcissa edged away to go get their visitor, but Draco swiveled around and strode quickly past her; "I'll get it."

He opened the door to reveal Pansy, in the outfit he picked out for her. She looked radiant, he had to admit. He quickly got outside and shut the door to block out his parents, appraising her properly.

Her sleek black hair was done up in a perfect chignon. Her makeup must've taken an hour as it looked 'natural', an effect Draco knew to take forever.

"You look fantastic," he grinned, wherein she smiled coyly and did a spin round.

The dress they picked was sailor inspired, classic. A tight navy blue number with a pencil skirt and short sleeves, double breasted buttons on the bodice. The shining highlight was the giant ruffle around her collar outlined in white stripes that tapered into a v-neck. When Draco saw it, he knew it would be appropriate, and he knew she'd love how campy it was.

"I do, don't I? You look so _cute._ I can't believe you wore it." She rubbed his stomach and kissed his cheek; he rolled his eyes and grimaced.

"Neither can I, really."

He didn't want to look 'cute', he wore a purposely matchy and preposterous ensemble to piss off the people that would be at Blaise's party. At first Pansy pointed out the outfit and he thought it was a joke. But when he realized she was serious, the potential to make the Slytherin circle uncomfortable to be seen with someone wearing something so outlandish was too great. He couldn't pass it up. He also had to keep Pansy at bay if he wanted to waltz onto that yacht and not be kicked off; she was his only defense, he must keep her pleased.

The getup in question involved a red sailor's necktie complete with the square flap in the back. The rest of his outfit matched Pansy's exact hue of blue; a sleeveless shirt with pleated pants that had two rows of gold buttons on his hips. He forgoed the sailing hat at the last second because it was a tad too far into ridiculous, but sported the shiny black boat shoes.

"So are you ready to go? Why are we out here?"

"I have some terrible news to lay on you Pans, it has to do with dear old dad and mum. But I don't want to discuss it right now. So, let's go, let's go, let's go! Quickly inside. Have the invitation plus one?"

She gave him an odd look and nodded slowly. He pummeled the door back open and pulled her by the hand to the fireplace steadfast.

"Hi Pansy dear, oh you look lovely!" Narcissa called gaily.

"Thank you Narcissa darling, hello Lucius," she waved, confused. If there was some terrible news, why didn't they look sad?

"Evening, Pansy. Hope you're doing well," Lucius nodded, then turned to his son. "Draco, this conversation _isn't_ over. I'm very annoyed with how you've chosen to react to us, and we need to discuss it."  
Lucius was staring sternly at him, and Pansy rarely had seen him so serious, the throaty drawl had all but disappeared. She flickered her gaze to Draco who remained stone faced.

"Oh, Lucius, don't be rude in front of our guest. Don't sully their outing!" Truth be told, Narcissa was glad Draco was finally having some frequent social interaction. Especially with a girl. "Do have fun! But don't drink too much, it's sloppy."

She was doing what she always did; correcting her husband's too-harsh behaviour. And Lucius responded how he always did, by shaking his head and giving up. He walked away into the sitting room, calling their house elf Rigby to get him a gin and tonic.

Pansy held back a snicker. She absolutely adored the ongoing verbal contradiction between the Malfoy elders towards their son. No wonder he was so unsure of himself.

"Yes, _thank you_, mother," Draco said a little pink faced, grabbing the floo powder. "_Royal_ _Oak_ _Yacht_ _Marina, Brighton, England."_

He thrust it into the fire and they were gone.

They reappeared inside an ornate ballroom, filled with few people. Pansy insisted they be early. She didn't tell Draco, but Blaise had told her to meet up with the Slytherin's beforehand. The plan was to board by 7 so they could ship off and view the sunset in the English Channel by 9.

"Invitation, Miss?" A security guard in crew attire asked Pansy, smiling delightfully at her as they stepped out from the fireplace. "Sir?"

"Pansy Parkinson, and this is my guest for the evening. Draco Malfoy," she said, handing out the parchment from her clutch. He ticked her name off the list on his clipboard and checked a guest box on the next page.

"Thank you. Just so you're aware, wands will be collected at the loading dock. The boat's being prepped; we're beginning to board in 10 minutes. Enjoy your night."

"Thanks," Pansy said, locking arms with Draco and leaning in to whisper in his ear. "_Draco, do you want to tell me what that fuss was about back there_?"

"I promise you I will, _after tonight_. So _don't_ pry," he murmured through gritted teeth.

"_Sorry_, it just – it seems like a big deal. We can talk about it if it's bothering-"

"I said _not _tonight!"

"_Oh look_, there's the gang!" She deftly recovered herself while pointing to a circle of the last people Draco wanted to see on planet earth. And steering him towards them.

Blaise Zabini, their host, stood confidently with a gaggle of old schoolmates. The group included Theodore Nott, his girlfriend Astoria Greengrass, Astoria's younger sister Daphne with her escort Adrian Pucey, and Crabbe and Goyle with their (in Draco's opinion) hideous dates.

As he strode as nonchalantly as possible over to them, he savoured the flummoxed looks on their faces at his presence. He wasn't extended an invite after all. And he hadn't seen them all in over 3 months. His birthday was a few weeks ago, but he refused a grandiose party. Last time they'd all met was when they came to his manor for cocktails. Even then he only showed his face for ten minutes to grab crab cakes before retreating back to his bedroom.

"Well, well, look who decided to show up," came the obnoxious voice of Theodore, who was checking Draco up and down.

Draco loathed him to no end. He was a stringy, greasy weasel whose holier-than-thou attitude rubbed him in all the wrong ways. Draco was as conceited as the next rich kid, but he certainly could admit to it, and he was_ not_ a class A douche.

"Nice outfit, Salty the sea dog."

The crowd snickered at him, but Draco was expecting jeers, in fact he _wanted_ them. Anything to fuel his fire, to distract him from his horrible morning.  
"Thanks, Theodore. Nice mauve polo. Really goes well with your khakis," he replied earnestly.

Adrian snorted quite loudly into his drink earning him a slap on the chest from Daphne. Draco smiled widely and chanced a look at Pansy who was trying not to giggle.

She instantly clammed up however and looked away when she caught Blaise's steely glare directed towards her.

"Yes it's been a while, friends. You all look well." And they did. Draco had to admit that the ladies and lads were impeccably dressed. "Hi, I don't believe we've met. I'm Draco Malfoy." He held out his hand to the two unknown witches (Drusilla and Arabella) who blushed and shook it while Crabbe and Goyle sneered at his nerve.

Then there was the required awkward silence that ensues when you're confronted with somebody whose only value so far in life was comedic relief and drama stirring. Draco of course knew that's what he was to them and interrupted it after grabbing two glasses of wine off a waiter's tray, one for him and one for Pansy.

"Nice place this is, Zabini. Fancy. By the way, have a chance to look at my letters yet?" Draco asked innocently, passing a drink to his date, causing Blaise to tighten his grip on the champagne he was holding. But he was a gracious host, he plastered on a grin.

"Never got them," he replied loosely. "Pansy I have a question for you, can I see you for a moment? You lot can probably go on the deck now, we'll be loading soon." He waved them along and dragged Pansy to the side. Draco was about to shake his head, disappointed he failed to rouse him. Instead he widened his eyes at the sight of a dressed up Dean Thomas coming out of the fire, accompanied by one unknown man and the Patil twins.

"What are _they_ doing here?" he asked more to himself than anyone else.

"Didn't you know old chap?" Theodore remarked, enjoying himself at Draco's sudden change in temperament. "There are going to be lots of kids from Hogwarts here. An informal reunion as it were. Too bad you weren't aware. Shame, you'd know that if you'd received an _official_ invite."

He patted Draco stiffly on the shoulder and hissed, "_Better leave before you embarrass yourself, Malfoy, mm?"_ then strode off with his clique, feeling triumphant as he left the clown standing there alone. The last thing Theodore wanted was the attention centred on such an unworthy candidate.

Draco meanwhile set his jaw and crossed his arms, ignoring the grimace his Gryffindor and Ravenclaw peers gave him as they passed by him and waved to Blaise. He was training his gaze on Pansy, who had now royally pissed off the two worst people she could have; her date and the host.

_A Hogwarts Reunion?_

His first instinct was to get the hell out of there, but Theo Nott had issued a challenge. He was _not _going to do the sensible thing and leave with dignity. He was not going to admit defeat. He'd be sociable and prove his fair-weather friends wrong. Show them he didn't care if they thought him to be infantile and stupid. He was going to stir up some fun. He may as well now while he still had the chance.

Back in London, Hermione was sitting on the bathroom counter in her apartment while Ginny made some finishing touches on her makeup.

"Close your eyes, just have to fix the eyeliner, smudged it a bit when I curled your lashes." Hermione obliged, flinching a bit. She always found the liquid on her eyelid an odd sensation. When she was finished, Hermione blinked and looked in the mirror.

She liked what she saw; her makeup, clothes and hair ten times more put together than normal. But as per usual, compared to Ginny she felt like a pile of dragon dung. It was a silly insecurity, she tried time and time again to get over it. It was an emotion that always seemed to linger.

To her, Ginny was the whole package. She was strong, courageous, kind and, most of all, accepting; rarely judgemental. She was the greatest friend and flatmate a girl could ask for.

It just bothered Hermione that she also got to be drop dead gorgeous. The epitome of beauty. Bright scarlet hair, a freckled face that required mascara to take her from average to breath taking and a bronzed, fit physique from flying all day outside.

_So unfair._

"What do you think?" Ginny asked, looking at her expectantly and popping her out of her self-loathing bubble.

Hermione also knew that Ginny couldn't freaking help winning the genetic lottery, so she never held it against her because she simply had no time for bitchiness.

"It's great," she grinned. Ginny beamed at the compliment and shook her fists giddily in front of her in anticipation.

"Yay! I'm glad."

Ginny was sporting a white lace sundress with a tight bodice and flowy skirt that they'd bought together last Sunday. She looked natural and amazing, in Hermione's opinion.

Hermione had no luck shopping, so Ginny had lent Hermione a royal blue wrap dress with long sleeves, white polka dots all over it. It was tasteful and not too loud, which Hermione appreciated. She asked Ginny for help to look good, but she wanted to be comfortable.

Harry was busy sitting at the island in their kitchen, tilting the stool back and forth with his feet, anxiously waiting for the girls to finish getting ready.

Ron had decided to ask out his old girlfriend to accompany him to the event as Blaise allowed an extra guest for Harry's party. So now Lavender Brown was sitting on his fiancée's couch. Harry found this surreal given Ron couldn't shut up about _maybe, possibly _asking Hermione as his date.

He knew Hermione didn't give a rat's ass though, that she was coming. He could tell she was tired of Ron constantly falling for her and then snapping out of it. Guess he was on the latter emotion this week.

Lavender giggled at something Ron was saying and stroked his upper thigh, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Harry muttered a 'nope,' under his breath and scooted away into the loo, going to check on the others.

"Hey Gin, you almost done? It's 6:45 so we should probably get…." He paused, catching a glimpse of Ginny in her full effect when he poked his head around the door. "Wow, you look amazing."

She grinned bashfully and walked over to peck him chastely.

"Thanks, Harry. I think we're about finished, yeah?"

Hermione refrained from making a comment about how funny she found the two. Every time Harry was away from her for a second, he'd come back to see Ginny and say she was beautiful. And every time Ginny would blush and kiss him. It was adorably nauseating.

She hopped off the counter and scrunched her hair to see if the hairspray she used was holding.  
"Yes, I think so. Time to go and mingle with the _social elite," _she laughed, putting on a posh accent.

"You look very nice too, Hermione," Harry smiled. Hermione thanked him and Ginny winked, happy her attempt to make her fabulous was working.

They walked back into the living room to witness some passionate snogging, so Harry cleared his throat.

"We're gonna be late," he scolded as Ron and Lavender pulled away looking sheepish.

"Hi ladies," Lavender greeted, waving as they stood up. She was wearing a lavender (fancy that) top with black shorts, her long blonde hair in soft curls.

"Hey," Hermione and Ginny said in unison, Ginny less keen than her roommate.

Ginny had never taken a liking to the girl, having to deal with her dumb remarks and PDA at family functions and on double dates for nearly 3 years. Hermione, on the other hand, actually thought she was a lot of fun. There was a time she was resentful of her, wishing she could be in her place, but it was juvenile envy. Once she got her own first love, experiencing what her best friends had, it went away.

Lavender was enthusiastic about even the smallest things, it was a great dissonance from the people Hermione worked with every day. It could get a bit annoying in a prolonged period of time, but luckily she never had to deal with that.

"Aren't you just super excited? I've _never _been on a yacht before, I've never been to Brighton!"

Harry smirked at Ginny and Ron turned pink a little, noticing their silent mocking.

"I am, I haven't been there either," Hermione replied kindly.

As they walked to the fireplace, they all felt an odd sense of nervousness. They were going to a high-class shindig, and none of them had ever partaken in one. Nobody knew the protocol.

Harry uttered the location straight away so they had no time to dwell on the strangeness of the company they were about to be in.

They arrived to the ballroom, now empty save for Blaise talking to Pansy and Draco standing in the corner waiting for her.

Blaise was sighing quietly."Pansy, I thought you were bringing Sergei, not _this_ idiot."

"Sergei is in Russia, I hardly think he would be interested in a 4 hour event. Besides, you saw him what, once? You barely even know him. What's wrong with Draco?" She knew very well what was wrong with him, but she wanted to hear Blaise's explanation.

"Draco is…he's not one of us," Blaise said matter-of-factly. "I don't want him here if he doesn't fit in. Everyone I invited is working a good job or contributing to society. What has _Draco_ done since school? Nothing. Has he been nice to any of us? _No._ He has no redeeming qualities, he doesn't actually like any of us, he only agreed to come here to piss me off and get free drinks."

"He likes _me_, actually. And he'd like you too if you didn't constantly act like he was beneath you. I won't let him harass anyone alright, I happen to be worried about his sanity. With 'us' is where he belongs, and you know it. So accept that and shove it, Blaise."

Blaise noticed who the security was handling, and so he didn't raise his voice like he was internally planning. Instead he instructed her to go away and turned with a smile to Harry Potter and friends.

Pansy rolled her eyes but obliged and walked over to Draco to drag him outside.

"God he's difficult," she complained as they got out into the fading sunlight. "And such a pretentious dick. He didn't want to invite you because you didn't have a _job._ Who cares anyways? Adrian doesn't have one and he's still here. And furthermore…" She kept on rambling to cover up his quiet.

"_Pansy," _he stopped her in front of the ramp before they were forced to join people. "Why didn't you tell me this was a 'reunion'? I know you knew, don't pretend otherwise."

Draco was fast regretting his decision to be rash now that he saw the 'Golden Trio' walk in. For some reason they intimidated him, though he'd never admit to it.

"I knew you wouldn't come if I told you Potter and company were coming," she said simply. He emitted a tsk of annoyance.

"Of course I wouldn't! Why would I want to associate with the goody goody dingleberries from our past lives?"

Pansy put on a guise of defeat. She hunched her shoulders.

"Look Draco, I hate seeing you so lonely all the time, alright. I'm trying to get you out so you see that it isn't so bad. I – I miss having you around every day like we used to, it gets awfully boring. Years fly by and you realize how the times have changed. The group isn't the same without you."

Draco paused.  
"Well don't worry, I won't be at home for much longer," he stated begrudgingly, softening a bit at her rare honesty. "I can see you a lot more."

"_What_? Why?"

"Let's get on the yacht."

He moved past her and handed in his wand to the crew, going on deck and straight to the bartender for more wine. No, actually, he made it a rye and coke.

He avoided Pansy for the time being and found Adrian conversing with Miles Bletchley, whom he always managed to get on with. They had a conversation about Quidditch until Blaise got on to make the first speech to everyone.

He clinked his glass and welcomed the guests. "Evening, my friends. I'm glad to see you all here tonight. I know you don't want to hear me ramble for a lengthy time, so i'll keep this short and sweet. Open bar is on the lower deck, the food is at the stern deck. Please don't lean too far over the ship when you've had a few, we don't want any men or women overboard." A small chuckle resonated through the crowd. "This is our captain for the night, Christian."

He pointed to the man and his sailors, who nodded to applause.

"The music for the evening will be provided by none other than the Weird Sisters. Enjoy yourselves, please!"

He pointed to the bow and the most famous band in the wizarding world began to play their new hit single, "Full Moon."

Half an hour later and the festivities were in full swing. The sweet sea air filled everyone's lungs and the splash of the waves created a nice atmosphere. Blaise had quickly done the obligatory walk around to make nice with all his guests, and everyone had now settled into their separate groups. Most were watching the band play, others were gorging on fresh seafood and expensive champagne.

The Slytherin circle was busy doling out their usual comments about others appearances on the lower floor. Draco found himself stuck within it for nobody wanted to talk to him besides Adrian, nor did he want to talk to anyone else. His plan for the moment was failing but the party had only just started.

"Oh Pansy, I meant to say it earlier, but I just _love_ your dress. You always have the best outfits. Wherever did you find it?"

"Well thank you, love. But I didn't find it, Draco did," Pansy responded to Daphne, gazing up at Draco adoringly. "At Olivetti's, really great Italian shop that does seasonal styles."

"_Draco _found it?" Theo relished in this new development. "Oh Draco, you never told me you were one of the ladies."

"Play nice, sweetie," Astoria scolded, playing with Pansy's hem. "You have impeccable taste, Draco. Very nice. Maybe you should pick out my dresses once in a while."

Theo choked on the shrimp cocktail he was drinking. "Why? You have good taste already."

"Of course she does. That's not the point," Daphne laughed with Flora Carrow, who'd come with Miles.

"Yes, boys have a different sense of what looks good on a girl than girls do. It's nice to have an outside perspective."

"Exactly!" Pansy giggled. "That's what _I_ said."

"Well the outside perspective shouldn't be a gay one," he snorted. Everyone looked at each other wearily. Theo always made bigoted jokes he thought everyone enjoyed. They put up with it because he never got it through his head that he was being offensive.

"I assure you, though it wouldn't matter, I'm straight," Draco said, no trace of annoyance in his voice.

"Whatever you say," Theo chuckled. "Well, maybe we can pay the kid for it, Stor. You don't have a job yet, do you Malfoy?"

Draco nodded, appreciating the eye-roll Adrian was giving Theo. "Hey, you could do _that_ for a living. Now that'd be a sight. Why don't you? A personal stylist. How muggle-esque."

"Now now, he would be doing a great service. Merlin knows there are some poor souls in desperate need out there," Flora said with a raised brow, looking over at Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan.

"True that. Did you _see _what Ron Weasley was wearing?" Daphne giggled, thinking of his striped jumper and ugly tweed pants.

"Oh god, that whole troupe was awful. Lavender really needs to ditch that shiny shirt, and Granger?" Pansy noted. "_Mm."_

"Speaking of Hermione," Blaise interrupted impassively. "I'm going to ask her out."

The group wouldn't have been more surprised if he had said that he was secretly a goblin disguised as a human. The silence was palpable until Pansy blurted out, "_Hermione? _Why her?"

"She's smart, sensible, successful, and she's _nice_. Unlike some. She's also reliable. Remember Theo, when she got me out of the Italian jam, completely damage free from a major legal matter? We kept in touch. She's good girlfriend material. Why wouldn't I ask her out? Because she's _muggle _born?" he asked testily, making most of them look to the floor.

"No, because she's incredibly boring." Draco replied, sipping his drink.

Pansy snorted, but Blaise ignored them.

"I need a woman who is working towards something. I don't see _you_ girls doing anything worthwhile. Now _if_ you'll excuse me." And with that he sauntered over to Hermione and Ginny, leaving the Slytherin ladies outraged.

"That man is _obsessed _with proving himself," Daphne murmured. "Needs a perfect little girlfriend for his perfect philanthropic life."

"He's got a point you know. Once I started working for him, and became his partner, I felt useful. Much better than sitting around all day just – _oof!" _Astoria smacked Theo on his head and _hmphed _her way over to the bar again.

Draco snickered and joined her, Pansy quickly in tow. She felt she had to watch her date like a hawk with a vulnerable, angry Slytherin girlfriend drinking vodka cranberries.

Over on the main deck, Ginny noticed the host had resurfaced to join the common plebeians. His face lit up slightly when he spotted them.

"Blaise is coming over," Ginny giggled. Hermione's eyes grew wide. "No, don't turn around. Be cool."

"Hi ladies, enjoying the sunset?" Blaise asked a bit lamely, coming over with a charming smile.

"Yes, it's quite beautiful," Ginny commented. "Hermione loves the ocean, did you know?"

Hermione found herself unusually tongue tied, nodding sincerely even if it was a slight exaggeration.

"No, I didn't. Maybe you should join me out here more," he said directly to her, staring into her eyes.

"Oh, you know what, this is my favourite Weird Sister's song and Harry looks awkward standing beside Ron and Lavender, excuse me." Hermione blushed but laughed at her friend's very unsubtle attempt to get them alone.

Ginny danced off to Harry who was leaning against the railing by the band's raised stage. He was sipping on wine while he observed the slowly inebriating crowd.

"Having fun?" Ginny sang. "Sorry for leaving you, just had to vent about ol' Lav over there."

"It's fine," Harry replied, shaking his head. He could very well see why Ginny found Lavender tiresome. She was cackling loudly and dancing raunchily after 2 margaritas. "Merlin, I thought it would be more fun to be on a boat with good music. All I've had is people making idle chit chat with me all night and you know I suck at that. They've all walked away after 2 minutes of failed conversation."

"People just _love_ trying to get an in with you," Ginny chuckled, rubbing his arm. "Don't feel bad. It's not like there are people we really know here, yeah?"

"Just Dean and Parvati," Harry sighed. Both Ginny and Hermione had dated Dean. The group had never quite managed to get comfortable around him again since.

"Luna would've made this party fun. So would Fred and George, actually. But I think save for some of Blaise's friends, he invited mostly people from your year," Ginny noted.

Luna indeed would've made the night more memorable, but Harry knew Blaise thought she was too eccentric for his crowd.  
"Yeah, it would've been nice seeing her. Neville too, actually. Even Seamus or Cho. Oh,_ come_ on," he said at the sour look on her face. "Are we going to be teenagers forever?"

"No, but I think she still has a thing for you," Ginny ribbed. "Speaking of, Blaise definitely has a thing for our resident book worm. Look at them."

Harry glanced over. "Oh, so that's why you came over here, not cause you actually wanted to see me," he teased.

"I think he's going to ask her out, alright. Didn't want to be in the way." They watched the body language of the two. Blaise was leaning in to her, she was looking shy but not pulling away. Yes, it was clear there was a frission there.

"I just hope if they start dating we don't have to hang out with the Slytherin gang," Harry grimaced. "Last thing I want is to rub elbows with Theodore Nott."

"Oh, if it comes to that we'll suck it up. It might be fun anyways. Did you _see_ what Malfoy was wearing?" she laughed aloud, causing Harry to smirk.

"Always has to be the centre of attention that one. Always ends up looking like a fool."

"Mmhm. But I must admit that I _do _like Pansy's matching outfit. She looks beautiful. If I didn't hate her guts I'd ask her where she got it."

"Trust me, you're much more beautiful than her," Harry smiled at Ginny.

She smiled back and then suddenly perked up. "Look, they're coming over to dance! Wanna join them? We still have a few hours, may as well get crazy."

Harry turned round and saw that Hermione was being guided by Blaise to the queue of careless couples, including Ron and Lavender. She was smiling brightly, flushing as everyone focused their gaze on them.

"Yeah, why not." _Screw it_, he thought. You only get invited to pretentious parties a few times in your life.

He set his drink down and Ginny pulled him into the crowd. She looked over at Hermione and had a question on her expression. _Did he ask you out? And did you say yes?_

Hermione nodded and winked, wherein Ginny felt very ecstatic for her friend. A particularly rhythmic song came on and the dance floor got into the spirit.

Everyone was having a good time and nearly an hour flew by as the sun went down.

The flow was interrupted as a very smashed Draco Malfoy stumbled onto the deck as the band took a break. Pansy was following behind him, a little apprehensive at Blaise's pending reaction.

"Heyyy, Blaise!" he shouted, walking over to talk to the host. "We're settled yeah? We're – we're not moving the boat anymore. Can I go for a swim then?"

Blaise looked very irritated at him and shook his head slowly as Draco grinned at him goofily.

"C'monnnn, the water's gotta be very warm tonight. Look at how nice the sky is! I wanna be in the pretty ocean!" he begged.

"Well you can't. Against the captain's rules."

"Damn, everyone's so uptight!"

"You can't swim anyways, Malfoy. You're completely knackered."

"Oh, I'll be fine. I've been wayyy worse than this," he grinned, looking at everyone for reassurance that he had indeed drank more than 5 whiskey drinks before.

A small audience was gathered around the conversation now. Many chuckled at it, some were frowning, like Hermione, at the uncouth display of behaviour.

"I said _no_."

"You're so_ unexciting!" _Draco humphed, stamping his foot like a child.

"_Draco, come on, you've had way too much." _Pansy was simultaneously mortified and amused, she herself tipsy. But she didn't want to cause any more trouble, so she tried dragging her date away. Draco shook her off.

"Blaise, _please? Pleassseeeeeee."_

"Fine!" Blaise snapped, losing his temper. He figured Draco just wanted to provoke him so he said: "Jump in. Drown for all I care. But I'm not coming to get you, and I'm not responsible for your idiocy."

"You're the best. You know? You're good men," Draco slurred, patting Blaise on the back and walked away with Pansy, who wasn't sure what to do.

Blaise turned around and gave Hermione a look of exasperation.  
She shrugged and reached out for his hands.  
"Sorry about him, you know some people just never grow up and – "

"NO, DON'T!"

"_Stop!"_

Everyone swiveled around to see what Astoria and Pansy were yelling at. Horrified, they were watching Draco perched on the boat's bars, about to dive into the sea.

Pansy tried to grab his hands but he was far too high and she feared if she clutched his leg he'd collapse for sure. The captain and crew Blaise had hired didn't manage to make it from the front of the vessel in time.

Draco kicked off his shoes and then launched himself off the two story boat into the sparkling blue waves.

Everyone in the vicinity rushed to the edge, waiting anxiously for him to resurface.

The submerged Slytherin was immensely enjoying himself and was not sinking at all. He loved the way underwater looked when the setting sun shone through it. Many times he had unwisely jumped into the lake in his home while intoxicated to practice swimming and see the view.

He knew that everyone would be watching him, wearily or not, so he stayed under for longer than he should purposely. This was the kind of stirring Blaise's lame party needed.

When he knew his lungs might give, he kicked his feet and his head hit the cooling air. He went into a backstroke as he heard collective sighs from the guests up above.

"I'm going to _kill _you! You fucking scared the living daylight out of me!" Pansy shrieked at him.

_"You should come down here, Pans. The water's amazing!"_

Adrian and Miles were laughing uncontrollably at his antics now that they saw he was okay.

"You should invite him out more, Blaise. He certainly makes a party memorable," he heard one of them say.

After a few more minutes of him dicking around, the captain threw in a life vest so they could pull him back up. He disapproved of Draco's actions, but found it the highlight of the very dry evening he was having so far with the host's company.

Pansy had a towel ready and wrapped it around him as she slapped him.

"_Ow."_ Draco rubbed his face.

Then she hugged him. "You stupid moron, I swear to Merlin."

She guided him below so he could sit on a wooden bench so not to soak it. Soon Blaise found his way down after making apologies, completely livid.

"You two, get the hell off my boat!" Blaise seethed. "This is the last time I'll ever tolerate you intruding on my affairs if you continue to act like a child!"

"Hey! You _said _I could jump in," Draco laughed, not taking him seriously, which only infuriated Blaise more.

"Blaise, nobody is mad, they all have something to talk about later over tea or lunch in their boring lives," Pansy tried to soothe him. It didn't work.

"Just get out of my fucking face, alright? You violated the boat's rules, and _my _rules. Pansy, I expected more from you. I thought you were finally doing some good for yourself when you moved out and started seeing somebody worthwhile. God, when will you two ever grow up?"

He threw their wands at the ground and stormed back up to the main deck leaving the medic who was checking Draco feeling very ill at ease.

"Well, he's fine…" he observed after his heart rate and core temperature were normal, putting his tools away.

"Thank you very much. Come on, Draco. If he doesn't want us here, let's just leave. Oh, you're sopping. I don't think your mother would like seeing you in this state…You can come back to my place." She steadied him onto his feet, wrapped her arm around his shoulder and gripped her wand and his.

They used the evacuation fireplace and floo'd into her apartment, magically set for her entrance only. The place was grandiose and surprisingly modern, but she rarely had company as she was rarely home. This was the first time Draco had been here.

"This is a nice place. Can I – can I lay down please?" His head was spinning after the swift changes in temperature.

She steered him into her room, but onto a sofa instead of her bed. It was the most comfortable one in the house, the living room one stiff from lack of use.

He immediately tore his shirt off, it was making his stomach itchy and dry, and lay back onto a cushion.

Pansy gulped, feeling her heart race, and checked herself out in the mirror to see if she looked great still. She was overwhelmed with lust, urged on from the alcohol, and didn't even care he was soaking her sofa. It was a bad idea bringing him home.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Pansy, I don't want to get a job," Draco whined out of the blue instead of responding. She scrunched her features and made her way over to him, sitting beside him. "_Damn my feet hurt, stupid tight shoes."_

"You don't have to, love," She replied, and grabbed his foot in hers to slowly massage his arch. "Why are you worried about it?"

"_Uh," _he groaned loudly, making Pansy grow wet. "That feels so good. And I _do _have to. That's what my ma and pa were going on about before you came over. It's what I didn't want to tell you."

"_What?_ They're_ forcing_ you to get a job!?" She asked outraged, though happy he spilled the beans. It was gnawing at her all night what his hushed up problems were.

"Mm, yeah. Don't stop please." Pansy switched feet. "That's not all either. I have to move out!" he hiccupped. "And that's fine and dandy because they're going to pay my rent. But until I do so whilst finding a profession, they're cutting me off completely. So now I need to find something that pays well and I need to learn how to live by myself. I understand they're worried about me and blah blah blah, but they expect me to do this on my own and they never taught me anything valuable to get started. _It's going to be sooo badddd," _he cried in his pathetic drunken stupor.

"That's horrible, Draco," Pansy admitted quietly. "I'll help you…if you want, that is."

"Oh, you're so nice to me Pansy," Draco said happily. "You're my only friend, you know? Did you know that? I don't want to end up like the rest of those guys, I'm so glad you haven't yet."

He sat up with difficulty and leaned over to grasp her tightly, leaning his head on her shoulder.

"Yes. Your _friend." _Pansy whispered miserably.

"I think I'm going to do what Theo-boy suggested," Draco murmured into Pansy's neck, making her spine tingle.

"Which is?" She asked confused, moving him so he was sitting up again. She then stood up, not letting her hormones take control of her and walked to her bed.

"Be a stylist," he said simply.

Though it shocked her, she found the notion oddly fitting. It was definitely something he'd be great at.

"_Really? _Do you think your parents would be okay with that? I mean it's not exactly a career path that exists for wizards, is it?"

"I don't give a _fuck. _My parents can suck it. If they're making me leave, I get to choose what I want. I'm good at it. No ministry job for me, I can start a business like Blaise!" he said, pointing a finger in the air dramatically.

"But what about the, erm, market?"

"_Hey, _if I can do it for you, who doesn't really need it, I can do it for other people. Just need good advertising. You don't think I can do it, do you?" he asked, sitting up straighter, staring at her with glazed eyes.

"Draco, of course I do. I never said you'd be bad at it. I just need to make sure you want to you know?" she assured him, thinking he'd probably forget all about this in the morning.

"Okay," he smiled, standing up and walking over to her. He fell chest first onto the bed and closed his eyes. "You're just so great. Looking out for me and stuff."

Pansy felt the alcohol pounding in her head and blurted out, "If I'm so great, why don't you like me?"

She knew he wasn't toying with her feelings on purpose, but he had to stop being kind only to her. It made her feel special, and she hated it.

"I _do _like you, though, what do you mean?"

"You _know _what I mean. I know you know I – that I want you. You only come to see me, you never go out with girls. With _anyone._ Why? Why is that? We kissed once, was I really that bad? I've been clear with my feelings. Haven't I? What's the problem with me?"

Draco sighed and turned on his back to look at her hovering over him, her blue eyes brimming with _tears._

"Nothing, _nothing _is wrong with you. I just don't feel _that way._ I never have, and I'm sorry. It's the truth. I'm not going to use you or lie to you, Pans."

"Well I wish you would," she murmured, lying next to him, frustrated she didn't get the thing she wanted to have.

"You have a boyfriend, anyways. You've had plenty in fact, and you always end it, right? They loved you, didn't they? Sergei must be good if he's lasted a while."

It surprised Pansy how innocent Draco sounded about relationships. She didn't think _any _of them truly loved her, she was just good at fucking. Sure she ended it, but there were barely any hard feelings.

"He's fine. But he doesn't spark me the way you do. Nobody's come close yet…."

"Maybe it's because you've known me forever," Draco tried, feeling very unsure of what to say. He really disliked the idea that somebody could truly be saying such good things about him. That she seemed to like him so much. He felt he didn't deserve it.

"But it's not why. I've known Theo forever too. I've known plenty of boys. Look, I know you say you don't feel that way, but how could you know for sure if you've never given me a chance?"

Draco, his mind reeling with a mix of a headache, whiskey and confusion, became still.  
"W-what do you mean?" he asked.

She leaned over him, tucked a stray hair behind her ear and bit her lip. Slipping her hand gently over his chest, ghosting his skin, the hairs stood on end.

His breath stopped. He'd never let someone be close to him like this, never had the chance.

She teased his nipples with steady fingers, making him whimper before moving in to press her lips to his. His body was responding to the pleasurable feeling she was giving him below the neck, but alarm bells were going off in his head.

"_Pansy –"_ he pulled his head away, but she ignored the action.

"_I'm the first one to show you how good this feels, aren't I?" _she whispered into his ear. He felt his chest beating fast, his breathing becoming ragged as she edged her hand lower and lower. She stroked his cock over his pants, making his stomach jump with arousal.

He couldn't stop the groans that she'd freed from him, and in her head, it meant he wanted it to happen. Gently nipping his lobes, pecking his jaw line, seducing him as she only knew how. He moved his hand to her shoulder, trying to keep her at bay, but she shrugged it off.

At last, she lost all reservation pushing her hand through his wet briefs and got a handle on his warm, pulsing penis.

It was growing harder by the second, and she felt her clit becoming drenched with desire at every gasp Draco made. Draco didn't know how to feel. This was nice, and if it happened he knew he'd enjoy it, but it wasn't meant to be like this, wasn't supposed to be with her. Yet sex _was _meant to be with somebody who cares, and clearly she did.

She really wanted to see it.

Yanking his trousers down, she felt great relish in the fact she was the first female to view it as is popped out of his underwear.  
She smiled at the sight, pleased. Somehow she always felt he`d be packing something good. It was an average length, but it was _quite _thick, which matched her preference.

Making him squirm with her skilled fingers, she began to pump his cock harder and harder, causing him to wriggle beneath her firm grasp.

She thought he was reacting out of delight until she caught the look on his face. Immediately she felt shamed.  
He was frowning, flushed, and he looked _guilty._

Wasted, the taste of her lips wasn't enough to let him know that this wouldn't be a mistake. Drunk, he still knew in the morning he'd feel like scum if he followed through with it, he didn't love or want her, he just wanted somebody.

And Pansy was being selfish. She let go of his dick, silently regretting that she didn't get to lick it, and stood up.

Completely at a loss of what to say to him, walking away into the guest room was her only option, just leaving him there. She began to feel overcome with sadness. Began to cry at her foolishness, slumping on the four poster by the window, gazing at the night solemnly.

"_God, what am I doing_?"

She'd cheated.

And the worst part was Draco hadn't even wanted to do it.  
No, actually, the worst part is she wouldn't feel bad if he _had, _she was sour he didn't return her love. She wasn't a good person.

Could she blame it on the alcohol?

Yes, though it was still a horrible thing to do. But many had done it before. And she didn't know how much Sergei cared about her yet.  
How could she forget that _she_ liked him though? Quite a bit more than her usual boyfriend.  
Losing him over a rash decision to prove a failed point would be something she'd regret forever..

She didn't know what she was going to do the next morning, but she damn well hoped Draco wouldn't remember, and by god, if she had a hangover, she was going to punch Blaise in the face next time she saw him.


	3. Different Breeds of Transaction

Chapter Three: "Different Breeds of Transaction"

Hermione was sitting at her desk in the office, her head filled with legal jargon, her progress uncharacteristically slow. She shared the room with her superior Gladys Philips, the Senior Undersecretary, who thankfully was in a meeting. Right now she was trying to do her boss a favour by glancing through the giant book of wizarding laws, 1850 edition, to find out the technicalities of illegal wand usage.

But she couldn't concentrate.

Though her mind was reeling over choosing a focus for her new position as an attorney, she couldn't stop thinking about Blaise. And the fact that he hadn't contacted her at all.

She hated herself for it.  
Felt like a dewy eyed school girl who cared more about boys over homework.

He was busy, but so was she. He'd given her a cell phone number he 'rarely used' but she'd been too proud to give in and call him. Ginny said she was being stubborn, but now she was refusing to do it on principle. It was kind of ridiculous to go ahead with it now, seeing as it was two and a half weeks since the party.

_What was wrong with her_?

She was a good catch, right? She was intelligent, sensible but not a prude, patient and understanding. He seemed to be really keen on her. So what was the problem?

Sighing into the pages she was reading, she banged her head on the desk.

"Maybe I should just call him."

She certainly was starting to feel a little lonely. Ginny's seemingly perfect life was beginning to make her feel inadequate; an amazing fiancée, a cool, well-paying job. She was always over at Harry's or away on a game. And where was she? An apprentice lawyer who didn't know whether she wanted to go criminal or corporate or something else. The only reason she had a nice apartment was because Ginny made double her salary. It would be a lie to say she wasn't a bit jealous. Or a lot.

Suddenly the click of the door interrupted her thoughts and she straightened up , pretending she was more involved.

"Miss Granger, how's your research going?"

Gladys strolled into the room, her frumpy cardigan over her shoulder, her face looking weary.

"It's going, Ms. Philips, how was your talk with the Wizengamot?"

Gladys was of the second highest rank under Kingsley Shacklebolt, who'd been elected after the death of Voldemort. (He'd served in office for nearly 8 years now; a great fit who had won 3 straight votes by a landslide.) She was a very strict woman who did her job extremely well; Hermione always felt tense and on her toes when she was around. Being the youngest officiating lawyer in the place was quite the accomplishment, even for Hermione. It's how she got the honour to be her assistant, she had proved her worth. But damn, Gladys could rival McGonagall for her firmness and that _definitely_ said something.

"Oh, the usual. Lots of complaints, arguments and overruling. Nothing that you won't get to experience soon enough. Now, more importantly, have you given any thought to what field you'd like to dedicate your skills to?"

"I have, but I haven't decided."  
She'd given it a _world _of thought, in fact.

It was a tough decision. She originally wanted to pursue human rights, and creature rights for that matter. But the ministry was _extremely _biased and difficult to deal with about any happenings that were not to their standards or race.  
Wizard law wasn't akin to Muggle practices. It wasn't fair, Hermione knew it, most people did.

So she wouldn't want to start on the wrong foot. Logically, she decided to work the way up to a respectable reputation and _then _plan to bring justice to those who have never had any, like house elves or centaurs when her name meant business.

She was aiming towards being a corporate lawyer. If she could get Blaise's company out of a potentially destroyed reputation, she could certainly help smaller ones in jams. She wasn't bloodthritsy for money like many of the elites in her office, she just wanted to do the right thing.

"Well better get on that soon. Then you can stop sitting in here all the time and go out in the field," Gladys laughed.

_If I did this the _good _way, it'd be years before I'd get to decide, _Hermione thought. She herself was partial to Muggle lawyers. Proper university educated degrees that took a lot of time to achieve. Obviously, she appreciated the fact that her schooling was paid for due to great marks and didn't take up so much stress and time in her life, but it didn't feel quite as if she deserved the title.

It was a great thing that the wizarding world was becoming more and more progressive. Entwining her occupation and lifestyle with her parents world, because she loved living within both and was dedicated to staying a witch, was a great comfort. Still, their legal system wasn't quite…._just _enough for her.

After rereading the same clause five times, her mind thoroughly distracted, Hermione knew she needed a break.

"Ms. Philips, do you mind if I go on lunch early? I'm afraid my brain retention is a bit stunted after looking at this for three hours," Hermione asked, hiding her nerves.

Gladys contemplated her for a moment and then nodded. "Very well. You have an hour, dear."

"Thanks," Hermione breathed in relief.

She snatched her briefcase and zoomed from the small confinement, clacking her uncomfortable heels down to the main floor, past the fountain to the fireplaces and flooing into her apartment. The un-stressful setting would put her in a calm mood, she hoped.

The white flag was coming up, she couldn't stand the niggling voice at the back of her head chanting 'what if'? What if Blaise really was too busy to call her? Loose ends did not sit well with Hermione Granger. Strained enough already, settling one matter would help.

She slumped onto the sofa and pulled out her cell phone, heart pumping as she searched for "_Blaise Zabini". _He had to pick up, eleven-thirty was lunch; even a CEO had to eat.

Clicking the green button, the ringing made her jolt at every tinny ding. Seven rings went by, and she almost hung up until –

"Blaise Zabini," his steely, professional voice came through the line and Hermione almost dropped the phone.

She cleared her throat, instantly regretting calling.  
It was odd, she spent more than a month working a case for him, but now that everything became personal, it felt like she was talking to a totally different man.

"Hi Blaise, it's Hermione."  
She heard him breathe on the other end, pausing before he answered.

"Hello Hermione, what can I help you with?" He was _not _happy. His voice was distant, too cool.

_How dare he? _She thought.  
He was the one who said he would call!

"Not much, I suppose. I was going to ask when you wanted to go out to dinner, seeing as it's been 2 weeks and you haven't contacted me," she replied (a bit bitchily.)

"_What?"_

"You never called," she pressed, anxiety filling her a bit, now second-guessing whether or not she missed a sign.

"I didn't call? What the fu – _James!"_ he barked to somebody offline, and Hermione was taken aback by his sudden change in tone. She overheard a quick conversation until the line was fuzzy and he was back. "You didn't get the letter I sent you?"

"N-no, I didn't," she answered. "When did you send it?"

"Two days after the party."

"_Where _did you send it to?" Hermione had a sudden realization.

"Your office?" Blaise replied confused. "I figured you'd receive and look at it immediately."

"Oh, _god."_ It was all coming together now._ "_If you addressed it with just my name, my boss probably glanced at it or threw it out. She shares her office with me, and she's very serious about the no 'personal' calls or messages rule. She didn't tell me about it either."

"_Oh." _His voice was drastically humbled. "Well…I – I'm sorry. I should've asked for your number or tried contacting you another way. I feel foolish," he laughed.

Hermione smiled. _  
"_It's fine, it was a misunderstanding unsolved because we're both a little stubborn. I was upset at you for not calling me, I must admit I felt too upset until this morning about calling you instead. I thought perhaps you changed your mind."

"Same here. I've been known to be petty in these kinds of circumstances…was quite angry to be honest." Hermione secretly relished in the fact he was actually _angry _over her 'ignoring' him.

"Well how do you propose we rectify the situation?" she asked coyly.

"Hm, well my note was asking you to dinner last night. So that's out," he chuckled. "Perhaps this Saturday? I'm free then at night, unless you have plans."

"No, no. That sounds great." She cursed herself silently. _Too eager, too eager!_

"Alright, I'll pick you up at 8. Your house?"

"Sure. It's 45 Kilburn High Road. Buzz flat 15."

"Great, I'll be seeing you. Bye Hermione."

"Bye Blaise." She clicked off and squealed with joy.  
She hadn't been on a date in months. Finally, she could shake off the notion that she was a leper to available men.

Four days til the weekend, she could _not_ wait.

A few streets over in Mayfair, Draco was tired of waiting too. He was less than elated sitting in his newly furnished flat, angrily crumbling a piece of parchment and tossing it in the bin.

"Merlin, why the hell can't I come up with anything good?"

"Because you're not an entrepreneur or business specialist," Pansy replied dryly, leaning against the bar he was sitting at, sipping some merlot.

Draco was currently trying to come up with a good name for his personal styling company. He was going to be a one man operation on the surface, but he felt all the best ventures had a backing.

He didn't realize when he had told his parents how difficult it was to get insured or get a license to even have a business. Especially since he wanted to deal with muggles.  
And he definitely was not giving up that part of his plan. There were literally billions more muggles than wizards, and he didn't want to fail pathetically by ignoring such a giant market.

His father had the exact reaction he was hoping for when he told him the news; rage about his profession of choice and then hysteria when told about the muggle side of London he was looking to live in.

If he had to suffer and be forced to be an adult, he was doing it on his terms (and yes, out of spite). Narcissa had been surprisingly supportive, and gave him a contact list of designers she used, and famous people she'd met (all wizards, but it was a start).

"Vat about just calling yourself _Malfoy, _or _Draco _like zose Muggles do vith famous celebrities? You're already vealthy, all you need is clients to make over, yeah?"  
To Draco's amusement, Sergei had come with Pansy to visit him. Draco hadn't understood how electricity worked or what outlets were for with all of his new appliances, so he asked the only person where he wouldn't feel like a complete idiot doing so.

"That's stupid Sergei," Pansy dismissed him.  
Draco noticed she continuously put him down, but he took it with a smile, always enthusiastic. It was a bit odd, they were very clashing personalities. He found he really liked Sergei; he was kind, personable, easy to talk to. While they were different in mind, Sergei was tall, dark and fit. He matched well with her otherwise.

Pansy realized she was being harsh that day. The intent was not to be such a frost queen, she was just overworked with anxiety that Draco might've remembered the night they'd shared two weeks ago. He hadn't said a word and neither had she. Sergei knew he'd escorted her to the yacht party, but he was none the wiser about the half-handy that Pansy bestowed on him, the kisses she stole. She desperately wanted to confess, but she figured if Draco forgot it, it was best left untouched, a mistake never to be made again.

"No, no, he's on to something there. I need to find something appealing to the masses, and most of them are rather dimwitted. So I must make myself appear grandiose and fabulous. Worth the fees they have to pay for me to make _them_ fabulous."

"Why not just rent a billboard in Piccadilly Square with your face on it; The Fabulous Stylings of Draco Malfoy?" Pansy suggested sarcastically.

"Maybe I will," Draco stuck his tongue out at her. "Now, the more important question is; How the fuck does one brew coffee?"

"_Really, _Draco?" Pansy sighed. "You're like a helpless kitten."

"Well, _meowr! _Help me, dammit."

He got up from his chair and strode to the kitchen and over to the coffee maker, a fancy instant one with the ready made cups, (recommended by Pansy of course).

She rolled her eyes and instructed him on how to make the drink by pressing buttons, while Sergei observed, entertained.

"There you go. Now remember it, cause I'm not showing you again." She shoved the cup into his hand and he grabbed sugar from his almost empty cabinet.

"Thanks, dear. Sergei, want some?"

"No, I'm fine," he laughed. Instead, he grabbed Pansy's hand over the island counter, and leaned in for a kiss, but she moved her head at the last moment, landing on her cheek.

Draco noticed, sipping his drink and feeling awkward at the tension created. "So Sergei, what is it you do anyways?"

"Boring sings, mostly," he replied, frowning at his rejection. "Being an ambassador is mostly about talking to political officials, mundane topics, you know? About patting backs and spouting good stuff about Mother Russia. I'm not high up enough yet to talk about interesting issues."

Sergei was a diplomat for Russia-England relations. He was 9 years Pansy's senior, and Draco figured he was intelligent for gaining such a position with barely an aristocratic background. At a fairly young age for the Wizarding world, too. He'd been at a gala she attended with her parents, and he'd charmed her very much with his sense of humour and looks compared to the rest of the wizards around.

"I'm sure you do much more good than Pans or I will ever do though, eh?" He chuckled.

"Perhaps. But self-esteem is alvays an important thing to boost," Sergei smiled, making Pansy feel extra guilty about her boyfriend being nice to the man she cheated with.

"True. I'm thinking about having a giant party, you know, start off business with a bang," Draco emphasized by stretching his arms wide. "Just need a damn catchy name."

"A party? Ooh, pray tell do you need an organizer for it?" Pansy asked eagerly, nerves momentarily forgotten.

"I think you're going to butt in either way seeing as you don't have my parents to worry about just popping in and outside my door," Draco mused. He was glad he didn't live in an all-wizard building. Otherwise Pansy would Apparate in any time she pleased.

"And I live just across Hyde Park, remember?"

"Oh god, yeah. This is going to be a nightmare; having responsibility," Draco said rubbing his temples. "Cleaning up after myself, going out in public. Ugh. I can't even come up with a title for myself."

"Ve'll figure it out Draco," Sergei said, plopping himself down on a stiff leather sofa that deflated as he sat. "How about… La Roi Maniere? French is sophisticated."

"Eh," Draco shrugged. As if people didn't think he was pretentious enough already.

"Malfoy Incorporated?" Pansy asked. "Simple, austere."

"No, too severe sounding. I need people to feel like they can relate to me. But at the same time, still wanting to respect me and my authority over their wardrobe."

"Psh, like that's going to happen overnight," Pansy laughed.

"Swish and Flick? Flick my vand and you'll be attractive in a snap!" Sergei suggested in an announcer's voice. "Ze Polyjuice Makover; you von't even recognize yourself!"

"Clever, but it needs to be Muggle friendly," Draco grinned, enjoying Sergei's contrasting humour compared to Pansy's annoyance.

"Aristocratic Ass: He'll make you sexy, but he's rude and crass?" Pansy tried.

"I prefer brutally honest," Draco glared. Sergei chuckled.

"Just Like Magic! Effortlessly transforming your look one day at a time!"

"Merlin, would you shut up?" Pansy scolded with a tight smile, embarrassed.

Draco on the other hand felt the mental light bulb switch on, and he stared at Sergei with wide eyes.

"No – that's brilliant."

"_What_!?"

"Think about it – the Wizarding community will think of it as a pun, a clever one at that. And Muggles use the phrase 'magic' when something works better than expected, right? Sergei, you're a genius!"

Draco jumped over to the couch and grabbed his hand to shake it, feeling energized, like everything was falling into place.

"You're telling me you're going to license a company called _Just Like Magic?"_

"No, just '_Like Magic'_. It's perfect."

"It's ridiculous."

"Exactly! Look, Pansy, it needs to be over the top. It's going to work. If I have to go out, I'm going out in a grandiose way. It'll piss of my dad, and I please both societies of the world; it's a win/win situation love."

"Whatever you say," She replied skeptically. "But how are you going to work with Muggles? You're not exactly well versed in their lives."

"Oh, I know. But I'll learn. I can always hire muggle workers, why else do you think I'm making a company? They can do the advertising and all that jazz. Mama and papa gave me some start up cashola. And the exchange rate is just _glorious,_" he winked.

"See Pansy? He's fine, no need to fuss."

"Thanks my friend," Draco beamed.

"You're welcome. I must confess I like you more zan most of her other friends. Not so, how do you say –"

"Pompous? Fake?"

"Yes."  
Pansy was shaking her head.

Draco rubbed his hands together, going over to his chest to grab some parchment and ink.

"Now to the event of the summer. The party. I want to crank out the time and place so I can get word out and have an RVSP list by next week. The day after it's over, I'm opening up my services. I'm thinking outdoors. Lots of guests. Lots of famous people. Any suggestions for music, food, locations – I'm up for. I'm going to have it in three weeks, perhaps four."

"Famous people? Who's going to come to a _Malfoy _event?"

"Muggle designers. People who know my mother. I'll pay them if I have to. I don't give a shit! Chop chop now, if you want to be involved, be involved. I'm not going to have so much spare time soon."

Pansy heaved a deep breath and went over to sit with Sergei, pulling out her fancy smartphone.  
"I'll look up some good Muggle and wizard caterers on here."

Draco, though astonished you could look up such things on a tiny device, didn't show it and thanked her.  
"Right. Let's start making a guest list. _Everyone from Hogwarts_," he scrawled.

"You inviting them just to show them you're not a failure anymore, to rub it in the Slytherin faces?" Pansy inquired, face glued to her screen.

"Yup."

"Fantastic."

_The Weekend: Date Night_

"I can't believe you're actually going over to the dark side," Harry joked as he entered Hermione and Ginny's flat, noticing and slightly disproving his friend's effort at looking sexy and elegant.

Hermione was dressed in a little black number, cleavage out, but conservative legs. She had on nude tights with a black back seam and red pumps.

Now she was fussing over her hair, which she couldn't manage to tame the way she wanted. She knew Blaise probably didn't care that much, he had seen her in the worst state, fussing over documents. But still, he was a Slytherin and he was rich, used to pampering and grooming. He had expectations she hoped she could fulfill.

She loved how he looked. He was so _neat_. Close shaven head, beautiful brown skin, fit, and he always had a nice suit on.  
Hermione was well organized, she was neat too. But she felt frumpy, slouchy and vampiric from sitting inside with books so often. She must try to elevate her regular look to match his.

"Yes, well. He's as light as they get over on the grey and green table," she laughed.

"That's true," Harry nodded, smiling when Ginny emerged from her room in comfy pajamas.

"You guys going to sit tight and watch movies all night?" Hermione asked. "I thought you were hanging out with Ron?"

"Meh, he bailed. Too tired from work."

"_Oh_…poor Ron." Hermione felt a twinge of sympathy. She was mentally stressed a lot, but he was too. Combined with physical stress, it must be tough saving people.

Harry noticed her tone, seriously curious as to what exactly she thought of his best friend. Honestly, he thought she and Ron were a good matched pair, his cool calm evened out her craziness. But he knew Ron was also careless when it came to relationships, he was erratic and, well, in his early twenties. He wished Hermione could lecture him about his love life and feelings, but that was the one thing she was far too nice to set him straight to.

"Yeah. Would've invited him over, but third wheel and all that. Need to watch the second and third _Lord of the Rings_. Probably will fall asleep halfway through," Ginny replied, plopping down on the sofa. "So when's lover boy gonna get here?"

"Any minute now, actually. He said 8, and I'm assuming he'll be – " the buzzer went off. "Punctual," she grinned.

She clicked the intercom: "Granger and Weasley residence?"

"Hi Hermione, it's Blaise," the tinny voice rang in. "You ready?"

"Yes, I'll be right dowwwn," she replied in a sing-songy voice. "Bye!"

She waved to her friends, they wished her luck, and she made her way to the elevator, not risking the stairs in heels. The last thing she wanted was to start the date with a broken ankle.

Blaise met her in the lobby, as she attempted to mask her giddy nervousness.

On the other side, Blaise was confident. He thought he knew how to handle girls expertly.

He was being a gentleman and his tried and true tactics worked; Hermione felt the taxi ride they took to the restaurant was pleasant, and unexpected. It was nice that they had a chance to talk beforehand, that they didn't just Apparate. It was more personal.

They sat down on the patio of an expensive Italian restaurant, Signor Sassi. It was super fancy, close to the café Hermione met Lupin and Sirius in. All staff seemed to know who Blaise was, of little surprise to Hermione, and they got the best seat in the back.

"So…_Italian_. How stereotypical of you," Hermione teased as they ordered some Pinot Noir and ricotta stuffed tomatoes.

"My favourite," Blaise chuckled. "My mother would take me here when I was younger with her modeling friends or agents because I would always beg for spaghetti. And cry if I got anything else."

"That's adorable," Hermione giggled. "You know it's funny, I worked with you for what, nearly two months? And I never really knew a thing about you."

"I make a point to try and be professional with all my clients. That way no information can be used against me or passed on in some way to my rivals. Not that I think you would do that, and anyways, you're not a client anymore. I can be myself," he smiled, sipping his water.

"Rivals? Do you have many then?"

"Well, you'd be surprised, really. They think I'm too young, that I only understand the business part of it, that I don't try and understand the science and skill behind it. But it's not true. A lot of men we hire hunt in groups, and there are plenty who do it secretly. Some muggles, even. Not all medicinal ingredients are magical creatures after all. Illegally of course, no permits. All around Europe, all around the world. Then they sell it to other companies, the bigger ones. But I won't have it. I don't care if I'm making less than them, I pride myself on a good reputation. As you obviously know."

Hermione's head swirled with images of abused animals, no heed to their feelings, no care about if they were in pain. "But why doesn't anyone stop them if they know it happens?"

"The Ministry tries. The muggle government too, i'm sure you know. They're very good at keeping it under wraps though, the wizards. Easier to clean up messes. Nobody's been caught in years, but they're bound to sometime. And when the time comes, I'll laugh," Blaise said scornfully, thanking the waiter for pouring his wine.

"_Those poor animals_," Hermione mumbled silently.

"Yes, it's quite a waste if you ask me," Blaise replied. "Now did you have any idea of what you want?"

"Oh um…" she scanned the menu, not exactly in an eating, or meaty, mood anymore. "Fettuccini alfredo, I think. It's a classic, it must be good."

"Nice choice. I'm going to have spaghetti lobster, their most famous dish," he said, turning to the staff and ordering for her.

There was a bit of a pregnant pause before Blaise started up the conversation again.

"So how's work going?"

_Oh god, am I that boring? _Hermione thought. They were already resorting to mundane questions.

"The usual, too much paperwork, not enough recognition," she laughed a bit too heartily.

"Huh. You said in the cab that you were thinking about becoming a corporate lawyer. If that's what you decide, I want to be one of your clients, you know. Your number one, actually. You are remarkably talented for being so young. Like me," he winked, making her chest and ears flush.

"Well, of course. N-now," she stammered, "I read in the _Prophet _that you opened up a branch in Zambia last week. That sounds fascinating. What were you looking for that's in Southern Africa, exactly?"

She wanted to get the attention away from herself. The constant need to please everybody and everything around her was all part of being an incessant perfectionist. Conceit filled her getting even the smallest bit of praise.

And they always said to keep asking questions to your guest on dates.

"Changing the subject, are we?" he asked wryly. "If you're interested, I've been getting research to figure out for me what illnesses are still prevalent in the world, and why. Have you heard of Scrofungulus?"

Hermione nodded. Ron always complained that the fungal growths on people necks were disgusting, almost too much for him to handle.

"That disease is highly contagious. And it's produced by coming in contact with some magical bug, which doesn't yet have a name because none have ever been caught. Just documented. I went to Zambia because there are insects there that resemble them. If we can get some to test out, we may be closer to getting a cure. They were difficult to deal with, in all honesty. The Zambians didn't want Britain to get the credit potentially if they did all the field work."

"Wow," she replied impressed. She hadn't realized how much effort this all took. "Is it hard to get permits then?"

"Not _hard, _I have money," he said immodestly. "It's humans that are disagreeable. They have lots of poachers going round the reserves, especially South Luangwa, where most of the diversity is. And it's always 50/50 on whether you're hiring reputable people to get the job done. So going to officials who really care for the land, you have a lot of nuisance in trying to convince them you aren't doing this for the animal skins."

"That must be challenging. All you're trying to do is save people! But I guess I can see how they feel, they have to see their beautiful wildlife get endangered more and more every year when they're helping to keep them alive," she explained quickly, going on a tangent.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," he grinned, amused. "Speaking of nuisances, I've been invited to an event in three weeks, and I was wondering if I could be your escort. It wouldn't be much fun without somebody who isn't interesting."

_Three weeks? _Hermione thought.

"Oh, so my rambling and talk of just business hasn't turned you off yet? You're still going to want to date me in three weeks?"

"Of course. It'll be like a coming out party – _er_ – well introduction I suppose? Lots of people will be there. Because the host is Draco."

He grimaced, wondering why the hell that rat thought he even had a chance with what his rep was.

"_Malfoy?!" _Hermione exclaimed, slightly appalled as their entrée was delivered on fancy plates. "Why ever would he be having an 'event' that people would want to attend?"

"Yes, that's what I thought. He's starting his own business it would seem," he replied a bit annoyed. "He sent me the invite and said he was going to include everyone from Hogwarts, but since I liked you, to invite you and save the trouble for him, idiot. He knew that you hadn't responded to my letter, he likes to rouse people, especially me."

"Why even go then?" she asked confused. "And what kind of business would _he _run_?"_

"Some kind of stylist thing," he snorted. "Like people will want to get advice from him. Whatever, he must be delusional. He just invited everyone to show off, as per usual. And it would be rude for me not to go considering he asked me. I mean, I never include him in mine because I can't stand the bloke, he only came last time because Pansy brought him without telling me. You saw what happened. Maybe he's trying to re-establish our long gone friendship? I dunno," he shrugged, biting into a tomato.

"For what? So he'd look good in the public eye?" she asked doubtfully. Somehow, Hermione got the feeling Draco didn't care a bit what people thought of him, he liked infamy for some reason she'd never know.

"No idea, but who cares. I want to bring you to rub it into his face. I'll buy you something nice too, to wear to it."

Hermione sipped her wine self-consciously, wondering if he just wanted her to look extra fab, or if he was kindly saying she had poor taste in clothes.

But if Malfoy was being a _stylist, _he'd need clients too. No doubt he'd be looking for them at his party. And she did not want to be disgraced by being made a public display, a mockery. She didn't have the money of those Slytherin girls.

"Sorry, wasn't trying to insult you," he apologized a bit late. "I just want you looking as great as I know you can. Especially if we're going to be business partners. You will go won't you?"

Blaise didn't understand why she seemed a bit offended, noticing the calculating look on her face. He was inviting her to a prime party. If it was Malfoy, it would be grandiose. Draco was so like Narcissa, though he didn't notice because his head was always up his arse. He merely thought it best for her to get a new dress. He wasn't going to be impolite, but she probably couldn't afford one.

"Um, well I haven't decided quite yet about going corporate. I thought you liked to keep your private life separate," she said nervously, unsure of how to respond. "I will go with you though."

It seemed too overwhelming for him to be making decisions like this for her, without asking for her opinion, as if he assumed she'd go along with it. Blaise was talking like they'd been together for months already. Honestly, she probably would oblige him if he talked to her about it. But not beforehand.

Blaise of course didn't realize that he sounded controlling. In his head, he was being sensible.

"I can make an exception for you. To be honest, Hermione, I'm a man that likes to get things done. To get what I want. And what I want is you," he said calmly, unnerving Hermione to a great extent. When she didn't respond, he continued. "Look, I know it's a lot to take in, and it scares a lot of people away. But I'm very busy, and I don't like mucking about not knowing where I stand with somebody. Maybe it's too much for you now, and you don't have to answer right now, but I'd like to be exclusive. I wanted to since you gave me legal advice. You're the only one with half a brain in that damned place, and I'd love to give you the opportunity to take it further," he smiled.

Hermione didn't know what to say, what to think.

She was extremely flattered, but also extremely afraid of what she was getting into. An expert at being guarded, in the past it had cost her relationships, it had cost her happiness.

After a long silence of contemplation, Blaise waiting patiently, she told him she'd have to think about it.

"I'm not saying no, and I want to see you. But official? It's too soon, I'm sorry," she said, trying to stand her ground, feeling horrible for it.

"It's alright."

"I don't date more than one person at a time, by the way, so you know," she continued quietly.

"Who exactly have you dated, if you don't mind me asking? You weren't seeing anyone when you worked for me, and you haven't been in _Witch Weekly _or any gossip blogs and the like very often, even though you're with Harry a lot. It's one of the reasons I was drawn to you, you're very reserved, don't garner attention that isn't deserved."

"Have you been keeping tabs?" she asked a bit frightened.

"No, but I hang out with Theodore often. Astoria and Daphne speculate you know, they read the shit out of all those tabloid things, if you'll excuse the vulgarity. You don't have to answer, I'm not trying to interrogate, I'm actually genuinely curious."

"Oh," she felt her stomach flex with relief. "Well, a bit embarrassing, I fancied Ron during school. I never got it out in the open. I mentioned it at a wedding 2 years back. I've found now that I have admitted it, he likes me on and off every month. It's a bit frustrating," she sighed.  
"Viktor and I kept in touch after he came for the Triwizard Tournament, and we wrote often. I dated him last year. We dated for almost 15 months. But he had so much demanding scheduling and it was starting to wear on him apparating to Britain every day or having me floo to him in Bulgaria just to see each other for one night. Plus I was busy too, we never had a regulated pace and I think it just made us crazy with lack of sleep or time."

"Interesting. Anyone else?"

She wasn't sure why she was explaining her reasons for breaking up to Blaise when it was their first date, but he was being forward and honest, so she could return the favour.

"I've been on dates that didn't last. But yes, I dated Dean Thomas for 6 months after graduation, and was on and off with Cormac McLaggen for about 3. None of them worked out because Dean had dated Ginny if you remember from school, and I lived with her. It was a bit weird. And Ron absolutely _hated _Cormac. It took me far too long to be sensible to realize that all he did was talk about himself."

"How repulsive," Blaise agreed, "Oh look, food's here."

It looked positively scrumptious. It had to be at 35 galleons a plate.

"Want to know about my dating history?" he questioned.

"Sure," she smiled, not being truthful. She was just going to compare herself to them negatively, wondering now if Blaise did that too. If boys did that in general, they seemed to be good at hiding it. Did he ever get apprehensive?

Blaise, though he'd never tell her, rarely did. He was too successful to be _nervous. _He wasn't fretting at all. He thought that Viktor was the only reputable person worth mentioning. Dean had a good job, but he was too nice. He didn't get things done.

"I dated Astoria for a year when I was 19." He raised his eyebrows at Hermione, and she felt as he did; startled. "I know, it's odd considering one of the people I frequently see is very much serious about her now. But I'm happy for them," he finished flippantly. "And in sixth and seventh year I dated this lovely Ravenclaw girl, Eliza Omirou. I don't know if you knew her, she was 2 years younger than us."

"Eliza…oh, did she sing in the choir with Professor Flitwick? I think I remember him raving about her to McGonagall."

"Yes, she did. Wonderful voice. She was nice, she moved to Greece when I graduated, where she was from, so obviously we had to break up. I would've liked something more, but she was only 16. It would've been too crazy, funny how we've both had the same trouble."

"Yeah, that is odd."

"Anyways, that's it. Honestly," he replied at her skeptical look. "Every other girl I've approached to date hasn't liked my attitude. I've wanted to change it a bit, but I realize that it's what I want so I may as well try to get what I feel like I need in a relationship."

Hermione felt a bit off about the statement, but she couldn't be upset at him for making it, because that's how she felt too, even if she'd phrase it differently.

"And here I was thinking you were some kind of ladies' man," she joked, trying to loosen him up from all this serious discussion.

"Oh, don't underestimate the power of money, many have 'taken' to me for my looks and wealth, but I can't be fooled," he countered playfully.

The conversation managed to stay lighter as the night wore on, more about pastime interests and general topics than personal inquiry. By the end of dinner, Hermione felt she had managed to make a good impression.

Blaise was happy to see Hermione wasn't socially awkward, as plenty of intelligent people had been in the past. On the boat he'd evaluated her small talk ability, and chalked up her nervousness to the fact that he was talking to her; and not on a business level. He knew she could work hard, but she could also handle a room and new people if she had too. Which was good, he knew he'd get her to come round and date him, she was no nonsense like he was. They were a good match, as he'd said on the boat.

The restaurant to her flat was only a 20 minute walk, and Blaise suggested a nice stroll home seeing as it was so warm. Hermione agreed, though now felt reluctant in her heels.

He walked her to the door, complimenting her appearance when the conversation broke.

"You know, I said it when I arrived, but you look beautiful. Especially in the moonlight."

"Th-thank you, you always look good."  
He laughed when she stuttered, finding her embarrassment cute. Before she had time to look to the floor or tuck hair behind her ears, he pulled her into him for embrace.

Kissing her on the lips tenderly, and then again. Hermione hadn't expected it, hadn't known if he'd be romantic or not.  
But she enjoyed it.  
She really enjoyed it.

They said their goodnights, their "i'll call you's", and she got inside, taking off her heels in the elevator, seriously confused as to how she felt.  
Blaise wasn't: he was happy. Content that next time he saw her she'd be his.

Hermione was more thoughtful than that. Blaise was smart, educated and they could get on well. Plus gorgeous.

But he seemed a control freak, perhaps possessive, though not jealous. She wondered what would happen next….she wanted to find out.

She just hoped she wouldn't get burned if it wasn't pleasant.


	4. Playing the Game

Chapter Four: "Playing the Game"

"Dammit LaVoix! Pass it like you mean it!"

Blaise was yelling at Eric LaVoix from the sideline, getting increasingly angered the further into the game they got. Eric, who was chaser right then, had almost dropped the quaffle mid-throw to let Adrian Pucey catch it for the other team.

They were sitting in Northsander Field, a space belonging to the Exbury Association Country Club. It was a magic-exclusive place located in Southampton. The field was a short walk from Highbury Hill House, where they'd just eaten lunch.

They were playing 4 on 4 with uneven teams. [One seeker, one keeper, two chasers; no beaters.] Blaise, Theodore, Terrence Higgs, Marcus and Eric on one vs. Miles, Graham Montague, Adrian and Lucian Bole on the other.

Hermione had come along this afternoon because she didn't have any plans on such a clear, sunny day. Blaise's invite came as a somewhat pleasant surprise. She never thought he'd ask her to watch Quidditch, her own friends excluded her when they played. Though she didn't care much for the sport, it felt nice to be included.

She found it odd meeting Blaise's friends, people she had avoided like the plague in school. But she figured she had to sometime. Harry and Ginny approved of her new boyfriend the few times they'd crossed paths. Ron had been less then enthused so far, but Ron seemed to take a very long time to get keen on new people.

About a week after their initial date, he took her out again to the Natural History Museum. Hermione had eventually told Blaise she'd be with him. Nobody had ever wanted to go to exhibits, let alone planned it before she suggested it, it was a nice change in pace.

Yet even though they were together, she still didn't know how to feel about him. It was just like her to over-analyze relationships as she would an essay, but this was dangerous territory she was treading in; a Slytherin, aristocratic minefield.  
She knew that she liked his positive traits, she immensely appreciated his effort to do things she liked, and she definitely liked the way he used his lips. But his constant need to be the orchestrator of everything was a bit tedious. He meant well, yes. He acted as if she couldn't handle life without assistance. And that infuriated her to no end. (She could certainly hold her own, thank you.)

Shaking her head, she let herself stop thinking, turning the page of her current book, _Don Quixote_. She'd compiled a summer reading list even though she was still working to make her mind more at ease, to remind her of past carefree July's. Perhaps this was too big of a book for a hot day, but the determination to cross all the classics off her list was bigger than her intolerance for temperature. And it was an excuse not to watch the game.

Blaise noticed her lack of interest in Quidditch, but it didn't really bother him. Most girls, he thought, just _didn't get it. _He got called in to replace Theodore Nott as Keeper, and he kissed her head before turning to get onto his broom.

Hermione looked up to watch him walk away smiling. In his padded pants and unofficial orange '15' pinny, she thought he looked extra fit.  
Theodore was grinning too as he came back from the pitch sweating, sitting down next to her. She tried to keep from grimacing as they were left alone. She, like most everyone else, did not take a liking to him.

"So are you excited to be going to a _Malfoy _party tomorrow?" he asked, eyes glistening with a subtle condescension that Hermione picked up on.

Tomorrow was the 'gala for the history books' or so she'd been told by everybody at the office under age 30. It was apparently a big surprise that Draco finally decided to get it together, his first major event bound to be scandalous. Monday was a holiday, one that celebrated Merlin's birthday, though nobody in Wizard Britain really cared about it anymore. So Draco decided to have his event on a Sunday, when most people did not have plans as they normally had to work the next day. Hermione figured it was mostly because he wanted as many people there (to show off to them), but it was clever reasoning nonetheless.

"Not really. I couldn't really care less about him or his endeavours," she replied coolly, staring at the words in her book without reading.

"Oh, and why is that?" Theodore asked interested.

Theodore was surprised that the famous Hermione Granger could be anything but nice. He never supposed she could be snippy.

"He's becoming a _stylist. _Basically, he's telling the world that your only value in life is based on how you look, and that most people do indeed look unacceptable. Not only that but what is with his inclusion of _muggles?" _This new information was printed in _Witch Weekly, _an advertisement that explained his services before he'd even opened them to the public. She wanted to wring his scrawny neck for even _trying _to pretend like he gave a damn about anything non-Wizard. Non-pureblood.

"What about it?" Theodore prodded once more, happy that there existed somebody who hated him as much as he did.

_"_He's including muggles in his efforts to make himself well-known, and to make him seem non-prejudiced to everyone else. Even though I can guarantee you he is. That just doesn't sit right with me."

"Then why go at all?"

"Blaise is going out of spite, though I'd normally disapprove, I think I'd be lying if I said I wasn't too."

"Spite? What will attending his party do to spite him? Wouldn't refusing to show be more offensive?"

"No. When we witness how awful his business plan no doubt will be, and have everybody agree that he's still the same idiot from Hogwarts, the same attention-seeking prat he's always been, I will be immensely satisfied he spent so much effort on a failed ruse."

"Attention-seeking prat? Oh come on, Granger, I think you can do better than that."

Hermione froze, and felt her blood rise up into a flush covering her whole at the voice of who was behind her. It was his tone that set her off.

Draco was not upset though, rather highly amused at what she'd just said.  
He had walked from the club, he was a member of course, and decided to join the boys for a little afternoon fun. Miles had told him about them having a few matches in passing at one of Pansy's party the previous week. Draco was trying to be a social in-cast rather than out and had made it his mission to network with everyone in his old circle. He needed them to come to his outdoor banquet tomorrow, needed them to think he had it under control when the past few days had been an _absolute _nightmare. Plus, though he loathed it, sucking up and playing nice might prove useful if he ever needed help in the future.

"I see that Blaise finally coerced you into his little plan, did he?" Draco asked, swinging around the bench with his Nimbus in hand, so Hermione found herself trapped in a Slytherin sandwich.

"_Little plan?"_

"Oi, Draco! You're coming on our side, no switch outs you assholes! Marcus can't seek for shit! Maybe we'll actually win!"  
Draco laughed at the seriousness of Miles' direction, who'd yelled at him from the goalposts. Marcus responded by giving Miles the finger.

"So who's winning, Nott?"

"We're winning, 50 – 10 so far. You lads better step up your game."  
Theodore was not startled by Draco's arrival, he'd been popping up all week at random social gatherings. He just wondered how pompous somebody had to be to think that they could just jump back into the pool without noticing they made such an unwelcome splash. It was obviously a scheme to get himself noticed.

"What did you mean when you said 'little plan', Draco?" Hermione asked, not bothering to sink to his level by referring to people by their surname. It was quite odd that these were the words they were exchanging after years of not speaking to one another. Funny that it was some stupid petty argument, Hermione mused, just like the old days.

"God, the boy never makes any sense, love. Don't even waste your breath," Theodore interrupted, thinking Hermione foolish for trying to start a conversation.

Draco smirked to himself, glad he could rouse her. "Interesting choice of reading material, I see, Hermione. Didn't care much for Cervantes, to be honest."

She knew it was his intent, but Hermione was more than stunned at Draco's admittance of having read a muggle novel. Even more so than him using her name. Her book was open to the beginning of a chapter, the cover hidden by her summer dress, so he couldn't have just glanced at the title.

"This is ranked as the best book written of all time by some," she quipped, unsure of how else to respond.

"A rank doesn't mean a damn thing when personal perspective exists. Don Quixote`s quite the dick. Obsessed with chivalry that is dead. An idealistic idiot. Insane."

"That's the point of the book," Hermione sighed. "From what I've read, it's a parody of classic romance novels, making a mockery of the heroes who must fight for everything. Everything is amplified to be this grandiose end-all event, a social commentary on how high society people are not always the most practical or best of judgement, because it's always the wealthy who are portrayed well."

Draco stared at her a moment, curious that she even bothered to talk to him.

"What a frightfully boring literary analysis," he yawned, making Hermione grip her pages tighter.

"Huh, you know I doubt you really read more than half of the book, Draco. I think you of all people would relate to the delusional musings of Don Quixote. You _must _be overly idealistic if you think in some realm of hell you opening up a personal styling business would ever attract anyone with more than an ounce of intelligence in their brain."

Theodore snorted, chuckling to himself at her nerve. She must be crazy, he thought, to diss a Malfoy with no care to the consequence.

"Think you're clever, do you?" Draco questioned, raising an eyebrow. "While you _might_ be smarter than most people I know, you are quite the idiot when it comes to realizing when somebody is stringing you along."

"Oh, that was _almost _a compliment. Pray tell, please inform me why I'm so misguided," she asked with a fake smile, snapping her novel shut with irritation.

Draco considered saving her sanity, and not telling her how he _truly _felt, but only for a moment. He enjoyed the idea of getting under her skin enough to get her to break it off with the companion she'd found herself tied up in.

"You're dating _Blaise Zabini, _the man with the plan, the only person I know who is so bloody obsessed with himself that he doesn't even recognize it. And you, Brightest Witch of Her Age, have fallen for his good looks and deductive reasoning. Sure, he's charming, handsome, but you must have understood by now that he's a one man operation. He only does things for him, and operates the people around him to benefit himself. And you'll soon realize that if you 'have more than an ounce of intelligence'. I'm sure his intention with you will reveal itself somewhere along the line, because I don't know what it is. In your case, I hope it's soon."

"What do you mean, 'his intention'? I'll have you know that I am perfectly clear about his intentions," she huffed, unnerved by his words. What did he mean 'in her case'?

Did he think she was _that _stupid that she couldn't figure out when she was being played?

Blaise was a good person. He wanted to help people, and he wanted to preserve animals as much as possible while doing so, didn't he? He wanted to do more with his life than sit by sipping cocktails and waiting for the next big event like every other aristocrat had.  
So why did what Draco said seem to ring painfully true somewhere in Hermione's body that she couldn't quite place?  
He was _wrong, _he was so wrong! Blaise liked her, and she liked him. Hermione repeated these words in her head to calm herself.

"You think you do, but you don't," Draco winked, getting up to replace Lucian to be Seeker, thankful of the great timing he'd been granted.

"Don't let the bugger bother you, Hermione. He lives to rile people up like that. Blaise is the best person I know, you'd do well to forget what he said," Theodore tried to soothe, patting her on the shoulder.

She appreciated that he was trying to be nice, but given his character, it wasn't all that comforting.

Blaise had returned back over to her, sitting where Draco had been.  
"You go back in Theo, I'm playing rubbish right now."  
Theodore obliged with no retaliation, enjoying the small drama he could retell Astoria later, about the reunion of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.

"What was Draco saying to you?" he asked quietly so Lucian didn't hear, though he was too busy guzzling water anyways.

"Nothing, he was just trying to piss me off," she responded, puzzled as to why he was so bothered.

"Hermione, I'm serious. I don't want him to hurt you in any way," he replied, thinking of ways to make her spill, looking into her eyes.

She softened a bit, still unsure of if she should tell him the exact details.  
"He heard me insult him before he made his presence known. Er, sorry," she shrugged, wherein Blaise merely chuckled. "We were just talking about this book, for some reason he's read it, and we jabbed each other about it. Apparently it's a lifelong habit of ours. Anyways, then he said that you had a 'plan' for me."

"A plan?"

"Well, first he said that you were self-centered blah, blah, blah, that you had different intentions for me than what I'm led to believe. That you're just using me basically. It's garbage, I don't believe him, trust me. There's no need to get wound up, I can handle him perfectly fine."

Blaise's face remained thoughtful, a frown etched where there should've been a smile, Hermione thought. He hadn't proved to be anything but great to her, and until he did, he shouldn't worry.

"I know you can, I just don't want him to sabotage our relationship because he's jealous," Blaise said, grabbing hold of her hand, stroking it.

"Jealous of me? _Hardly," _she laughed.

"Jealous of us, actually. He's _terrible _with girls. Honestly, don't think he's ever had a girlfriend."

_Well, it isn't a wonder with his attitude_, Hermione thought.

"Yeah, Pansy fancied him for a while, but now she's dating some guy way better than him, though I secretly think she still wants to jump his bones. She's been helping him sort this whole thing, I found out the other day. Sometimes I think that girl needs a slap on the face, a wake-up call to remind her of who she's been associating with. How can she be friends with him? _Ugh._" He shook his head, not bothering to contemplate it further.

Hermione, on the other hand, let that information try to settle in her brain for the remainder of the set, as she watched the boys get more and more intense as their match started to last more than a half hour.

She barely made a dent in her book, curious to why Pansy wouldn't have dropped Draco like the rest. She seemed the type to latch onto people who would bring her popularity and fame. And Malfoy? He seemed like a leper so far. The female Slytherin ringleader was calculating like everybody else in this group, probably moreso than most. Admittedly, she did quite well in school (much to Hermione's displeasure) so she couldn't have been stupid...so what was it? Witty was the only redeeming quality Malfoy had, Hermione speculated as to what she saw in him to no avail.

An hour later, Marcus and Adrian now on the side, they were _still _playing. The sun was burning Hermione's shoulders and legs now, she had long abandoned her book. Even a gaudy straw sunhat didn't help her, the heat starting to affect her nose and cheeks. She cursed herself for not bringing more sunscreen.

"God, I wish they'd just hurry up and catch the damn snitch already," Marcus whined, loosening his protective gear from his sweltering arms.

"Maybe if you didn't suck and Miles didn't keep making Draco switch positions, we'd be done by now," Adrian laughed.

Miles, unofficial team captain, had made Draco rotate with his teammates about a dozen times now. He was back to seeker in an attempt to end the game.  
Hermione noticed, with her mild comprehension of what made a good player, that he moved more fluidly on his broom than everyone else. Even more so than Blaise and Terrence, who were both very good.

"Yeah, yeah. I never practice being seeker, Blaise just likes to have his way," Marcus replied with slight aggravation. "Geez, It's a wonder Malfoy hasn't tried out for a league yet, Merlin knows he could make it on at least for second string, the stupid idiot."

Draco had dove inches from the ground to catch the snitch, just missing by a second as it flitted away into the sky. He didn't get discouraged, he pulled up and shook off his disappointment.

"Yeah, well too late now, right? If he's going the way of all businessmen, he'll be swamped like Blaise. What a waste, guess five years of doing nothing improves your game immensely."

"Five years of nothing?" Hermione asked out loud, blushing a bit when Adrian glanced at her.

"I probably am breaking some kind of code here...ah, fuck it. Draco's been an enigma of sorts. We've had continual bets on when he'll show up next to a birthday or outing. He hasn't stayed close in our little group. The only person he talks to on a regular basis is Pansy, and even she had no idea of his schedule. All we know is that he finally left the nest and moved out. My guess is that ma and pa coerced him into getting a job, but he wanted to do it himself, picked something ridiculous on purpose," Adrian explained.

Hermione found this information shocking, she wouldn't have believed that he'd seclude himself like that, with how competitive he used to be. Nor that _Lucius _would've pushed his son to do something an average person must.

"Hey did you want some water, you're probably thirsty, yeah?" Adrian handed her his water bottle, ice cold. Hermione grabbed it realizing she was quite parched.

"Thanks," she said as he nodded. She liked Adrian, he seemed much nicer than most of the people she'd expected to meet with Blaise. He also wasn't afraid to talk to her, a lot of the boys hadn't uttered two words to her.

"Hopefully this'll end soon, you're probably bored stiff."

"Maybe a bit, it's better than being inside cleaning, or doing nothing, like I'd probably be doing otherwise," she chuckled.

"Yes, Blaise just wanted you to see his nice display of manliness no doubt, though he's seriously slacking today. Our team sucks sure, but he's let in almost – YES!"

Adrian jumped up from his seat fist-pumping the air and ran into the field, startling Hermione.  
Draco had caught the snitch to win the game, 190 – 90.

The losing side flew to the ground, all lying down, exhausted by the extended playtime. Adrian high fived Draco along with the rest of the team as Miles picked him up to carry him off the pitch by his legs.

Hermione smirked despite herself, she found it humorous how excited people got winning scrimmages. Ginny would've reacted the same.

"God, next time Miles just let him play as seeker the whole time!" Adrian was shouting as Draco was dropped onto the ground at the bench.

Soaked with perspiration, he was grinning and panting, jubilant at his victory. Draco hadn't played with a team in a while, though he was used to flying a lot. Now that he lived in the city, he had to resort to actually using his membership here.

Absolutely boiling now, he tore off his black pinny and undershirt, pouring water all over his chest and hair.

Blaise stood up from the grass wiping the sweat from his brow as he walked back to the side, a little sour from the loss, a little more sour when he noticed Hermione staring at Draco's stupid, skinny, naked body.

He copied Draco's movements, stripping down to just his trousers and went over to her, wanting her to notice how much more defined his torso was than his. From constant work outs and healthy eating, he'd developed a damn good physique, if he did say so himself.

She looked up at him and he could tell she approved, the sudden spark in her eye signalling she found him sexy.

"Oh Hermione, your back," he said tentatively, noticing her skin coated in a red tinge. "We should probably get you home, hm? Away from the rays?"

He touched her shoulders gently, moving his hands to her spine and flowing them down her arms to her hands. He pulled her up and kissed her, pushing his bare chest against her breasts.

Draco rolled his eyes at the sad attempt Blaise was making to get her attention, like Hermione Granger would've been attracted to him at all. He knew she was just surprised he'd get half naked. Blaise seriously couldn't stand to see somebody else take attention away from him even for a second.

"Yeah, maybe," she replied, giving Blaise the onceover, her back burning from his warm fingertips.

"Call it a day, gentlemen?" he asked to the rejoicing Slytherin's.

"Hell yeah, there's no freaking way I'm playing another set after that long of a game," Adrian agreed, refilling his canteen with a swish of his wand.

"See you later then, lads," he said, picking up his broom and clothes, beckoning Hermione along with him.

"Tomorrow, Blaise?" Draco corrected him.

"Tomorrow, Draco," he sighed, turning around to get away from him.

"Bye," Hermione waved awkwardly, unsure of what else she could say.

"It was nice meeting you properly!" Adrian called, waving. Everyone else remembered their manners and began to wave too.

"I look forward to seeing you tomorrow!" Draco smirked, sounding more like a threat to Hermione than a pleasant goodbye.

Out of arms and ears reach, they decided to go back to Hermione's place. Ginny was away on a game, and Harry was swamped with work as per usual, so it was empty. She hadn't been to Blaise's apartment yet, didn't know where he lived actually. But it had only been a few weeks, so she didn't mind too much. This was his third visit in there. The first was to wait while she got ready, and the second was because their snogging session had become heated.

Right now they were sitting on the sofa. After he'd showered and eaten leftover Indian takeaway, she decided to pop in _Downtown Abbey, _her favourite show. Blaise, though Muggle savvy, didn't care much for television, so he constantly interrupted it, wanting to talk instead of sit in silence.

"Did you get aloe on your burns? Don't want any unsightly marks on you, especially for tomorrow evening."

"Yes, I did. They'll go away, don't worry, I used SPF 40 sunscreen, now shh," she said, waving her hand so she could concentrate.

Blaise grabbed her hand and kissed it, enjoying how attentive she was to something so silly as a TV programme. He pulled himself down so he could lie against her chest and in-between her legs. She absent-mindedly stroked his hair, moving downwards to massage his neck.

"Hermione, don't. Don't knead me, please."

She snapped her vision away from the tube to her boyfriend. What an odd request.

"Why not?"

"I have an appointment tomorrow to get a massage done properly, I don't want you to knot me up."

She let go of him immediately and laid her hands to rest on her side.

"I have one for you too, and one for your hair and makeup. I thought maybe we could go together. Kind of like a date," he grinned up at her.

She didn't grin back.

"A date before a date? I don't know Blaise, I feel kind of strange accepting all these things from you, especially when you spring them up on me last minute so I'd feel bad saying no." She decided to be honest with him, she wasn't used to being spoiled.

"Don't feel bad, just say yes. You're my girlfriend. I want to pamper you," he assured her, rubbing her thighs soothingly. "You deserve it."

"Alright," she relented a bit, "but even with a thousand massages, and even if I look fabulous, I don't know if I'll feel settled at Draco's party."

"My sentiments exactly. I plan to get exceedingly pissed, abusing his open bar like he did mine. At least then I'll be able to deal with all his flagrant bullshit."  
Hermione giggled.

"I didn't realize you were so devilish, Mr. Zabini."

"I'm not, I just have a bone to pick with the idiot. He thinks he can just waltz back in everyone's lives and pretend like he didn't leave them at all. Plus, he's clearly trying to rope my friends into being his, and I can't let that happen. Pretty soon he'll need legal help, no doubt he's going to make a rookie mistake, and he'll probably ask _you_ just to get me to react."

"Look, even if he did ask me, I doubt he'd give me a reason to say yes. I understand it's frustrating to have somebody intrude in your affairs, I've had similar dealings for different reasons before. But you have to remember that they won't go back to him if he's only trying to be friends to gain something. Real friendship is hard to find," Hermione said, kissing him on the ear. "Even if they do go to him for a moment, they'll realize he's stringing them along if you're certain he is. You've just got to not hold it against them when they come back to you, because they will in time."

"You are so wise," Blaise chuckled, breathing deep. "That did calm me down, actually."

"I have my moments."

"More than that..._Wait_." He sat up and turned to her, thinking about something she'd said. "Does that mean that you're a corporate lawyer now? Officially? Did you choose?"

"Well I didn't want you to know until I finalized everything, but yes. I did. If I get enough prestige I can eventually switch out to do creature and human rights like I want to. I just think it's not the best place to start, it's better to get some credibility first," she mumbled, flushing at how joyous he sounded.

"You are brilliant, I can't even tell you how happy I am for you right now!'

He hugged her tightly, surprising her for about the 100th time that day.

"Thanks, Blaise," she replied squeezing him back. She pulled back and he stared at her with happiness.

"_You keep on pleasing me every day_."  
The words sounded strange in the context they were in, but she felt herself bathed in a flattered blush nonetheless.

And suddenly he was snogging her more emotionally, more deeply than he had ever done previously. Hermione felt herself overwhelmed with the feeling of being truly desired.  
She'd been without it for a while.

And an hour later, though she was scared and unsure, she was sexually excited as she lay back on her bed. All clothes had been discarded, the only light came from the streets outside. Blaise was raring to go, stroking her most sensitive spot, making her lust grow with every passing wave of pleasure. Grabbing at his skin, she marked him with her nails as her moaning became unrestrained.

She wasn't exactly sure why they'd gotten from talking about office business to getting it on, but all she knew as she urged him on top of her was that she wanted him inside of her. Her heart was pounding, and the feel of a body so close to hers was overwhelming. She stroked his cock with a gentle vigour, thrilled with the length he had.

Blaise shivered at the ghost of her touch, too hot and bothered to try and get her off first like he'd planned. He hadn't thought that she'd be so willing to fuck him, he thought he'd have to work hard for it. Initially, the girl struck him as shy, but she was extremely adept at foreplay, was responsive and aware. Turning out to be so...so _sexy. _He threw his caution to the wind and coaxed his throbbing erection between her legs, held her thighs open before gently pushing in deep, causing a feral groan to rise from her throat.

She used her calves to slink around the smallest part of his torso, pulling him down to her so she could grab onto any inch of him she could. The slightly uncomfortable tearing sensation of a new lover broke into bliss almost immediately after the first few thrusts, and as she kissed him again, she remembered just how much she enjoyed having sex. How much she missed it.

Hermione hoped it would be a long night.

Draco hoped it would be an early one.

Unfortunately, his wish wasn't granted as he returned home from Quidditch an hour after Blaise had left, with more phone calls to answer and last minute details to attend to.

Pansy was waiting, livid that he was out for nearly 4 hours. Sergei was in a conference, coming home late that night, she was quite bored without any company.

"So you're sure that the music is ready? You're sure that all the famous over demanding Muggle sods have their needs met and are coming so we can reserve them a VIP seat? DRACO!" She snapped at him, sipping some chamomile tea in an attempt not to lose it.

He was lying down on the wooden floor, just waiting for her to decide his preparation was passable and exit the premises.

It was nearing 11 PM, and he was so tired. That Quidditch game, though rigorous, was the first break he'd gotten in a week. He seriously had to hand it to all the Slytherin ladies who planned shit like this on a regular basis. It was difficult.

"God, Pansy. Yes, the music is paid, for their manager called me this morning. The Muggle designers will either show up or not, I don't honestly care at this point, as long as somebody noteworthy comes. I'll know whether they're VIP or not, so we can worry about it then."

"No, we need to now! Come on! You're having a party in Muggle London, this is a big deal. You have to make sure that the Statute isn't broken or the Ministry will be after your ass."

"Pansy, I have over a thousand confirmed guests, you think I don't know that? I invited the Minister of Magic for fucks sake."

"Really? _He's coming?_"

"No idea. The point is I hired the very best in police and wizard protection that money can buy. I have a wand check booth that is stressed in the invitations to the wizards, and anyone who becomes an nuisance will be ejected immediately."

"Well…alright. What about press?" Draco knew she was trying to be thorough, but he just wanted to go to sleep.

"I've allowed the _Prophet _and _Witch Weekly _to come. I paid_ The Times, The Sun _and _The Telegraph. _Only one reporter and one photographer per, it'll be under control, I asked for senior journalists."

"Nice, I knew you had some sense in there. So you have your guest list, your food, your venue and set-up….how exactly are you going to sell yourself anyways? I never asked about it because I was excited about details." She leaned against the wall by his bedroom, starting to feel exhaustion hit her too.

"You needn't worry about it Pansy. Just relax. I want you to have a great time tomorrow night, thank you so much for helping me, by the way. I could not have done it all without you."

He got up off the wooden floor and walked over to her with the gait of a zombie. He held out his hands for a hug, and she, astonished, embraced him warmly.

"You're actually thanking me while sober? Guess this growing up business is working," she jabbed.

"Oh don't ruin this, you ninny. I've realized how useless I've been towards you these past years, and you still seem to like me on some fault of your own, surely. Anyways, you should probably get some rest. Tomorrow you have your fitting with Sergei in the morning and I obviously have to supervise, so go on, off to sleep."

"You're not going to use us as a ploy are you?" she asked wearily, already knowing the response.

"Not a ploy, an example. And please, don't be insulted, you're going to look fabulous and every girl is going to want to be you, trust me."

"Who is this designer again?" she rolled her eyes. "She's a muggle, right? She better make me look good."

"Vivienne Westwood. Trust me, she's good. I met her already. She knows Martin Frobisher, the Wizard designer that my mother is obsessed with. And she's really eccentric, batshit insane. That's how you know she does good work."

After the initial shock had worn off that Draco was styling the plebeians, Narcissa was ecstatic to help her baby boy get started. She had lent him the cash needed for a ridiculous over the top event and opened up her dusty black books filled with noteworthy people he could invite.

"If you say so," Pansy replied uneasily. "I trust your judgement, but perhaps not you yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll see you eat your words tomorrow," he laughed, always grateful of her brutal honesty.

"We'll see," she responded brazenly. "You know after the fact that if you have no more time for me, I will punch you in the face, right? Spread gossip and rumours to discredit you?"

"Oh, I wouldn't have it any other way."

Pansy let a grin spread across her face and drained her cup, strolling away from him to grab her purse. She put the mug in the sink, and slowly traipsed her way over to the door, turning before she left.

"It feels weird, this. This party tomorrow. It feels like a new chapter is opening for you, and somehow I'm a part of it, you know? Like everything is about to change. I don't know, maybe that sounds silly," she blushed, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"Not at all, I feel the same. It's terrifying isn't it?"  
Draco strode to her, hands in his pockets, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"Not for me, though I get why you think that. You've made leaps and bounds in a month compared to how you were before you left your mum and dads."

"I have, haven't I? I still have got such a long way to go."

"Well, no better time than the present, hm?"

"How right you are," Draco smirked, opening the door for her. "Bye Pansy."

She started to leave but paused.  
"Draco, don't read into this. I just want to do something before everything may or not become too hectic, and you get too caught up in your life to spend time with me every day."

Draco stared at her strangely, waiting for her to act.  
"Okay, what is it?"

She leaned in embraced him, holding him for a very long time. More than what would be considered friendly.  
"I know you can be a success, you just have to believe it. I'll see you in the morning."

With that she sauntered away, in her head telling herself that this was the last time she'd toy with his emotions and hers. She just wanted him to know somebody was there for him, she knew he considered himself some kind of lone wolf.

Draco stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of what exactly she meant by her gesture, watching her get onto the elevator. He realized now that he did love her a lot, not romantic love, but one that lasts from knowing somebody so well for so long.  
While he'd thought quite the opposite a few weeks before, Sergei was lucky to have somebody like her in his life.

And now with that swirling in his head, he felt terribly alone, the silence overwhelming him as he was left to his thoughts.

He traveled to his sofa, opting to lie on it instead of his bed, mulling over what occurred this afternoon and what was to come.  
The party he hoped to go smoothly, he only wished he'd had a date. He knew he could lie through his teeth and pretend he didn't have one on purpose and get away with it, but truth be told there'd been nobody he could've asked.

Girls, he decided, were bizarre. While Pansy was an eternal mystery, a mix of bitch and wisdom, he found himself thinking about her complete opposite; Hermione. She was supposed to be smart, it bothered him. Wondering why a friend of Golden Potter would give in to Blaise's fantasy world, and wondering why he was wondering about her at all.

"It's just because I haven't spoken to her in years," he decided, rolling onto his stomach.

He fell asleep with amusement in his head, remembering her witty responses to his digs, replaying the look on her face when she saw him take his shirt off. And he found that his statement earlier was a true one. He _couldn't_ wait to see her tomorrow.


	5. No Sympathy For The Devil

**Author's Note; Sorry for the very long delay! I changed the name of the fic because I don't think it properly represented the flavour of what's to come! Thanks for your patience xo!**

Chapter Five: No Sympathy For The Devil

Time is a strange thing.  
A day can feel like a century in certain circumstances, while a month can feel like five seconds in others.

Hermione was experiencing the latter tonight, disillusioned from the very long morning she had.

She was going to a giant, ostentatious affair. Cozy was her comfort zone, her only hope was that she wouldn't be tacked into spotlight coming with a rich, handsome CEO that seemed, to her, out of her league. There were bound to be far more 'famous' attendees. Since Harry had declined the invite, perhaps she could fade into the background, the less scrutiny the better.

On top of all this constant worrying, she was extremely horny.  
Blaise and she had done the deed three times the night before. After such a dry spell, she'd wanted to keep going, and possibly never quit. But he insisted they get 'beauty' rest, which was a good idea in retrospect. Very tiredly, he'd woken her up to leave at 9 am, reluctantly waiting until the last minute so a quickie was out of the question.

The routine consisted of a massage, a pedicure and manicure. She couldn't relax because she was exhausted and wasn't used to having such a lavish expense presented to her so easily. Not to mention the wax to her under arms, legs and bikini line had created a constant dull ache, though she had to admit she did feel more confident than normal; grooming really does make a difference.

With only a salad for lunch (to keep a prim figure, apparently), she sat to get her makeup and hair fixed for three whole hours, and then was swooped away for a dress fitting. Another three more.

And now they sat in a limousine on their way to downtown London, to a place called Magdalen House. It was on Tooley Street, near City Hall and London Bridge Train Station. It was not too far from the Ministry as well she noticed as the River Thames was reflecting light up through the tinted windows. Coming closer and closer in her vision, the bustling bridge became larger the further they got to their destination.

Glancing back to her date she smiled, trying to remember her midnight escapade instead of her nerves. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored pinstriped suit, black. The only standout detail for his outfit was a forest green tie, matching the colour of her dress, a sleeveless sheath cut.  
Combined with an outrageously elaborate bun, calculated tendrils framing her face, and platform heels, the entire exhausting routine made her more sophisticated than she felt.  
Leaning into him, she noticed he smelled absolutely divine. The reaction to her ensemble was immensely gratifying given he had insisted on the whole process. In certain words, as she was revealed, Blaise had promised her a repeat experience of the night before when they got back to their hotel room, just down the block. All part of the affair, she supposed. Honestly, if there wasn't so much effort spent into her look, she would've instructed their driver to go there right now.

There was a possibility it was the lust talking, but as they arrived, Hermione was convincing herself she could play with the elite tonight. Uncertain if there would be other nice classmates there, she was sure she would be forced to converse with elegant Slytherin's she had nothing in common with. That also meant that nobody friendly would be watching her and judging her, so she could easily pretend. Blaise said himself that he was going out of spite, to get hammered. Mocking the host, though petty, was something she surely could do. Mocking the other guests too, as she knew their circle were proficient at. Didn't the pessimists of the world say that finding something to hate was easier to unite with somebody else than finding similar interest?

_Maybe this whole endeavour won't be so bad_, she mused, uncrossing her legs to be escorted out of the car. They were led by the valet to the front entrance of an old nondescript building, notably quite larger compared to the rest in the area.

"Quite a bit of security, don't you think? Wonder if Malfoy is a bit _nervous," _Blaise chuckled in her ear, nodding to the many bouncers in formal attire as well as several police cruisers lying in the street.

They gave their invitation in, got crossed off the list, and were swept into a wizard-only elevator, top floor. In a secret red room, a few Ministry officials took their wands for storage, lectured them on the presence of muggles, the severity of making magic known, and led them to the next check point.  
"Up the stairs please, sir, miss. Sorry for the inconvenience." An eager boy in a uniform greeted them as they were done with their wands, away from the wooden hallway to an emergency exit.

Blaise glanced at Hermione with a raised brow before swooping through to the outside, immediately biting back any insult he was ready to say.

The night sky was dazzling, absolutely breathtaking. The moon was so full, you could easily get lost in it had you leaned over the railing to watch it glow.  
Dim paper lanterns strung along across the roof, creating a cozy, intimate mood as the only light source. The party space was expansive and flooded with patrons, every one of them dressed to the nines. Magdalen House was connected to the office building next to it, elevated by a floor, stairs joining them for accessibility. The far end was enveloped by a transparent marquee, the end where Hermione stood open-air. Couches were sprawled everywhere, orchestral music seemingly swallowing them whole from every angle. As Blaise led her along to find friends in a daze, she noticed waiters holding trays of food, and bars in nearly every corner.

"_What a good job Pansy has done_," Blaise muttered to himself. He could never give Draco the credit of actually pulling it off well.

It was a tasteful grandiose that neither Hermione nor Blaise had expected. Shocking most, for Blaise, was that a Malfoy, what with simply looking at their disturbingly large manor, could create something so comfortable with the volume of the people attending.

Shocking most to Hermione, something that literally stopped her in her tracks, was who she spotted when she noticed Draco. Standing in his company, talking with familiarity and genuine interest, was Narcissa Malfoy to _Mick Jagger.  
_There were several others beside him in the circle, but Hermione was fixated on the rock legend before her, barely surrounded by security. Only recovered from the awe noticing the smug look on Pansy's face, who looked bloody fantastic, sipping her champagne.

"What's wrong?" Blaise questioned a bit worried at her expression, paranoia overwhelming him that she was stunned at Malfoy's appearance, who he deemed sub-par with a boring grey suit.

"_Do you know who that _is?" she whispered conspiratorially.

"That wrinkled decrepit ghoul?" he replied perplexed, causing Hermione to gasp.

"That's the lead singer of one of the most famous muggle bands of all time! The Rolling Stones?" she begged, feeling so out of place and disappointed he didn't care.  
Maybe he was actually _jealous, _Hermione felt some envy brewing inside of her right now._ How in the hell did Draco manage to pull this off? He probably doesn't even care he is here, or appreciate who he is._

"Never heard of them," he dismissed, resenting how impressed she was. "Look, there's Theo over there."

She switched her vision to the right as he dragged her to his familiar social circle. The walk seemed to take ages as more and more faces registered to her as they pushed through the unorganized queue. British _royalty_ were here, the younger generation: Princess Eugenie and Beatrice of York. Various has-beens of British music and film past were talking as if they were regular people. Up and comers too, pretty models with their representation.  
Ministry higher-ups were chatting with muggle politicians, Hogwarts alumni with random guests. Several men and women stood out, framed by the posse surrounding them who almost worshipped them it seemed. Designers, Hermione assumed, considering the business ventures of Draco.  
This whole situation was extremely bizarre, and Hermione admitted that she now understood why it was a dangerous line to tow including magic and the rest of the world in one drunken place.

Now daunting, the Slytherins all stood gazing back at she and Blaise, waiting for them to get closer. Hermione snatched a flute of champagne and chugged it in one shot from a passing server, then took another for good measure, just so her hands wouldn't fidget. She could _never_ let them see her fazed.

"Pansy did _some_ job, eh?" Blaise quipped as he reached his mates, smiling with snark.

"I said exactly the same thing," Theodore chuckled in response, puffing on a cigar, ready to pull one out for his boss.

"Oh, come now. It's really nice," Daphne mused, looking around again at the venue. "Everyone looks so glamorous."

The clique continued their critique of everyone around them, gossiping about both their clothing and prowess. Whenever a female looked for assurity that she was much better looking, Hermione earnestly nodded her agreeance, both confusing the ladies and pleasing them. The boys were already a few drinks in, Blaise had to catch up, and only liked to comment on the people they found ugly or annoying. Again, Hermione would add a simple 'yes', or a small titter when required, trying her hardest to win them over.

"I just _love _what Pansy is wearing. God, she's so lucky. Starlet of the evening, isn't she? Draco had to show everyone he knew what he was doing. I _told _you he wouldn't fuck it up especially with her along for the ride. And her boyfriend is quite the dishy - _oh_ shut up, Theo." Hermione tried not to giggle for real as Theodore growled his disdain to Astoria's remark, covering her lips with glass.

Hermione moved her view back to the apparent centres of attention to make her own verdict. She _did_ like what Pansy was wearing; she found her whole look really appealing, really daring. With unfathomably high black heeled shoes covered in spikes, she was wearing a strapless dress; a heart shaped bodice that billowed out into an ankle length skirt. It was a shocking pink plaid, but it did _not _swallow her whole, it wasn't loud.

Her hair was sleek and straight, make-up very minimal, with a simple gold chain around her neck . It struck Hermione as odd that she never realized how beautiful her old rival was, adolescence was kind to her.

Now she was feeling quite unfit in this company again. The edgy, sexy ensemble something she could never pull off in a million years. And it didn't help that Pansy _was_ standing with a very handsome man. Curly dark hair, a strong jawline, he had the perpetual look of being content. He was wearing a matching pink suit with a dark blue shirt underneath. And delightfully, black oxfords with spikes. They looked great together, and she knew she and Blaise didn't have that same effect. They weren't that openly romantic; Blaise was too reserved, and Hermione too scared to show her affection because most people didn't approve of them. She kept getting a very closed off vibe from Daphne in particular.

"Yeah well, maybe you would've gotten the opportunity if you'd been after his cock for ten years," was the jab from Lucian, to which the group all snickered. Hermione found it _too_ rude, so she hid her reaction by draining the rest of her drink.

"Nevertheless," Astoria cut him off, waving out a finger, "I want to know who the designer is. And sink my hooks into her….I gather it's that redheaded woman in that flashy bedazzled jumpsuit but – "

"Vivienne Westwood," Hermione interrupted, unable to stop herself. Instantly she shot her hand to her mouth, as if she'd broken some social rule.

"_How do _you_ know that?" _Daphne asked with narrowed eyes.  
All Hermione could think was that these girls hated not being on top of everything worth noting. They liked having all the answers.

"She's a muggle?" Hermione tried. "Common knowledge, she's really quite famous."  
She was lying. Though Vivienne _was_ well-known, she doubted if any of her friends or even her mum knew _any_ designer's name, European or not. It was actually printed online, in various fashion blogs. She'd been looking up Draco along with his party plans in the muggle-sphere the past week. In an attempt to uncover his intentions on the sly, hating that he'd be newsworthy, that his parents could now know his name. So far it was all praise.

Of course she couldn't admit that she was snooping to Blaise, or anyone here. They'd likely just tell him and he'd be gratified she gave one ounce of fuck about him.

"_Hm_," Daphne responded, skeptical of this newcomers information. "Okay then, what's Pansy`s sex partners name?" she asked to everyone else, knowing Hermione wouldn't have an answer.

"It's _Sergei," _Blaise muttered, giving Daphne a warning look, to which she grimaced and turned towards her sister. Hermione was being perfectly nice, and not too much so.  
Blaise deliberated if she might be envious, she'd wanted to date him not long before he'd been with Miss Granger.

Adrian shrugged at Hermione apologetically; she merely nodded.

"I'm getting a drink, you want something?" Hermione told Blaise, escaping the gossip to request a delectable poison. Already feeling the strange churning sensation in her stomach of drunkeness, she'd eaten nothing since 3 and it was now nearly 10. It was on the itinerary to get sloshed out of her mind, and she knew it would be the only way she could be remotely comfortable given how Blaise's little troupe had responded to her in the first fifteen minutes.

"What can I get you?" A dazzling witch with sleeves of tattoos asked Hermione politely.

"A scotch on the rocks with a twist….and anything strong that tastes good," she replied with an embarrassed sigh.

"Tough crowd?" the bartender sympathized. "Yeah, that lot doesn't take well to strangers, I'm afraid."

"You know them?" Hermione asked, now interested, leaning over the counter. She didn't clue in until now that of _course_ the Malfoy's would hire magical staff.

"Ooh yes. All the, _ahem, _Slytherin crew hires us for their events," she winked after checking if anyone Muggle was around. "Our company mixes some _special _ingredients in the liquor so it's extra good, if you know what I mean."

Though she'd never drunk anything with magical properties before, she _did_ have the gist.  
"As in, relaxes you?"

"More like…creates a gentle euphoria. They asked me not to use any of our unique blends tonight, but I have some anyways just in case we run out of regular, and we might considering the attendance number. I'll get some for you."

"I'm not sure if that's a great idea," Hermione mumbled, the phrase 'wet blanket' repeating over and over in her head. It felt like substance abuse, she was going to ingest something that altered her mind state.

"Trust me, Hermione, and yes I know who you are," she laughed at her blank surprise, "those girls will be relentless. I don't know you personally, but you're probably ten cuts above them in terms of kindness. Blaise is a generous tipper and a hot date, but he's only in a good mood if he's the host. He probably won't be Casanova until the end of the night. So you need to being able to just giggle at their idiocy. It will piss them off and probably make them respect you, actually."

"Well….." she paused.  
_Did Blaise go to lots of parties with Astoria? _Hermione naively asked herself. How could this girl know that he didn't get romantic until the end of the night if she hadn't seen it many times? Perhaps he wasn't so truthful about the women he'd been with.

This was too much for her brain right now.  
If ever there was an alternate universe where Hermione could choose to be a different person, _now _was the opportunity. Might as well get crazy.  
"Alright, give it to me before I regret it."

"Excellent." Mixing magic gin with juice in a tall glass, the end result was an eerie glowing purple. Hermione hoped nobody would notice, but since most were focused on Pansy, she was probably paranoid. "It's not very strong, promise. Have fun."

"I may be back later," Hermione grinned, feeling giddy as a school-girl cutting class for the first time. "You're now my favourite person at this party."  
The bartender saluted her and laughed.

Feeling extremely naughty, Hermione took a gulp. The taste was incredible.  
So she took another.

"_But that old man_….."

And another.

"…_should go find out who he is._"

And one more.

Hermione returned to the circle to Flora Carrow wondering about the existence of Mick Jagger. She handed Blaise his glass.

"Somebody A-list, no doubt."

"Yeah, look at his total ten of a date. No way he's an average Joe, has to be loaded with those trout lips."

"Hermione knows, don't you?" Blaise asked, placing his arm around her, mildly proud of the petty fact she knew her stuff tonight. His hand on her shoulder was not comforting to her.

"_Of course she does_," Daphne noted, rolling her eyes.

Miles passed a look to Adrian, who bulged his eyes in confusion. Obviously, Daphne was not normally this outspoken. _Or bitchy, _Hermione smiled to herself.

"I really like what you're wearing," she then blurted out, unable to handle all this awkward tension. She'd said it to Flora, who appeared taken aback and suddenly self-conscious.

"T-thanks?" Flora was sporting a simple black cocktail dress, and classic black pumps. Nothing special.

Hermione continued to babble about everyone's outfits and hair, earning looks of bewilderment from the ladies who rarely got treated nicely by the same gender, while the boys all smiled at her amusing display of diplomacy.

"OH, It's Mick Jagger by the way, the fish faced man over there."  
She pointed and both Adrian and Miles chuckled. "He's in one of the most famous British bands of all time. Muggle, of course."

God, this drink _was _affecting her. And it was _not _at all weak. She felt her body buzzing, her senses tingling; the music more intricate and conversations more audible. She couldn't stop talking.

"_Are you okay?"_ Blaise whispered in her ear, she was vibrating slightly under his touch.

"Oh, just fine," she replied. "I hope he performs tonight, even if he's alone."

"What band is he from?" Miles asked, curious as a lover of Wizard rock.

"The Rolling Stones," she exclaimed, to no recognition. Instead of frowning though, she grinned again, more glazed than her normal genuine ones. "They're really great."

Blaise swallowed the remnants of the scotch and tried to curb her silliness.  
"If you're so excited about him, let's go say hi."

"R-really?" Oh my god!" Hermione clapped excitedly, Lucian Bole sniggering a vulgar comment to Eric LaVoix at her glee. Blaise pretended he didn't hear it, Hermione actually didn't.

"None of you lot have gone over yet?" Blaise checked. Everyone shook their head. "Draco's probably 'too busy', what an arse. Some host, hasn't welcomed us yet and he actually knows us from school."  
His clan had no words, not wanting to get on his bad side, and continued on about muggle celebrities they didn't recognize.

As they strode over, Blaise continued to mutter obscenities while obtaining another stiff one. Hermione's stomach filled with butterflies and inadequacy washed over her again as she took note of how ridiculous and amazing they all seemed in the spotlight. The few photographers in the place were snapping away at them constantly, even the Wizarding ones.

"You're seriously alright though?" Blaise inquired again, not understanding how she could be so out of it this early.

"Mmhmm. Trust me, just trying to be nice."

"Glad to hear it. Think you scared the women with your humanity, usually they are all relentless monsters."

"_Kill them with kindness_," Hermione mumbled.

In this instance, Hermione was actually so happy Blaise had plenty of ego and self-confidence. Because her voice managed to leave her the minute she saw Malfoy's eyebrow pique up and the smirk splay over his face at the sight of them. And then he waved.  
All eyes zoomed to them again, and it took all the effort in the world to stop herself from bursting out in hysteric laughter, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Hermione noticed a young girl around her age look Blaise up and down, an approving gaze on her. But she felt too surreal and far gone to register its meaning, unsure if she was happy she had a hot date or if she should feel protective of him.

"Nice set up, Draco," Blaise flashed his teeth, extremely fake, but convincing to everyone who didn't know the history or know them behind closed doors.

"Thanks, Zabini," he answered coolly, fighting back his delight because he knew he had him beat for the time being. He glanced at Pansy, who returned the coy grin.

"Isn't it just _lovely," _Narcissa sighed, tipsy from wine, grabbing onto her sons arm. "The sky is beautiful."

"It's _so _beautiful," Hermione chimed in, not noticing the silent passing looks Pansy and Draco exchanged.

"Yeah, haven't been round these parts in a long time. Good spot." This came from Mr. Jagger, which caused Hermione to melt at the nonchalance of his speech, cursing herself for being so fan-girly as if she was still twelve. A woman far too young for him, but a definite 10 as Miles said, nodded serenely in agreement.

"Enjoy the locale, Granger?"  
Draco eyed Hermione, hoping to get something amusing from her.  
She felt the alcohol bubble in her very empty stomach, and took a draining gulp before responding.

"I do," she nodded. "It's very relaxed and charming. Like a fantasy."  
_Merlin, what am I saying?, _Hermione thought, keeping on her calm demeanour as she heard Pansy snort.

"Oh, your Harry Potter's best friend, aren't you?" Narcissa remarked warmly, in which Hermione nodded in bewilderment. "Hermione?"

Narcissa was extremely radiant, Hermione noticed, having never seen her up close before. She caught herself before asking how Lucius ever managed to convince her he was worthy of her time.

"I am," she nodded. "It's so great to meet you. Unfortunately, Harry nor Ron could come tonight. They're so _boring. _Now, why are you alone? Where's your majestic husband gone this evening?"

Draco nearly spat out his drink, turning away so he could stifle the laughter that was wracking his frame.  
"_Majestic?" _he repeated to himself very quietly.

"Come now, Draco," Narcissa tsked. "That's such a shame. Glad someone could convince you to attend," she winked at Blaise, wherein he grinned politely. "Lucius also couldn't make it. These sort of events aren't comfortable to him, normally. Such an introvert," she shook her head, as if he were a disobeying child and not a bigot. "Perhaps he'll come next time, I've always wanted to meet Harry Potter."

"'arry Potter?" slurred Mick, who was into his fifth drink.

"Well known in our circle," Narcissa explained matter-of-factly. And nobody questioned her further because a photographer asked for a quick snap. They all bared their teeth and held hands, leaning so nobody would be left out, a good save by Mama Malfoy.

When the man was gone, Draco decided to break the silence.  
"I'm assuming by the expression on your face you came over to see Mick, Granger. Why not introduce yourself?"  
She would've slapped him had she not been in such a spacy mood and good company. Putting her on the spot was something he was bound to do. Now he'd given her the opportunity to say something at least, even if it was humiliating for her.

"A fan, are you?" Mick swayed, questioning her kindly. "Haven't been that many this evening, no obsessive girls screeching for some reason. Not that I'm complaining."

"Yes, I am a _very_ big fan," she replied with grace. A giant grin spread across Micks face. "My father is the obsessed one, to be honest. With classic rock, I mean; I grew up listening to all your records."

She appeared sheepish, but Mick was awash with joy.

"Your father? Oh darling, you're making me feel s-so old," he put a hand to his heart dramatically, reaching out to grab Hermione's wrist playfully, chuckling.

Hermione again fought the urge to squeal in delight, or faint, but Draco noticed the exuberance in her eyes, it had alighted her whole body at Mick's action.

"But so wise." This came from Vivienne, a gleam in her eye. Mick's date and the girl beside her giggled. "Come on, where's that youthful spirit you're supposed to be known for, hmm?"

"Stuck with Keith, the bastard. Always in Connecticut these days."  
Hermione almost screamed. She needed another drink to handle this. She was in a real life conversation where Mick Jagger casually name-dropped his guitarist.

They continued to have a dull, yet extremely fascinating to Hermione, conversation about the reasons Keith Richards and the rest of the Stones liked or disliked Britain more than America, and why their millionth record release was delayed.

"Are you playing then?" Hermione asked, the 'musical performance' never being revealed to Draco's party guests.

"Oh, yes. Alone unfortunately."

"You don't need him, Daddy. When's the last time you played solo anyways?" _Daddy. _The mystery woman was Georgia May, Hermione remembered after a moment of wracking her brain. Mick's daughter, who was unusually quiet.

"True, true, darling. Perhaps I should go set up soon, have to fly in the morning unfortunately, old men can't stay up as long as they'd like. What's your name again, sweetheart?"

"Hermione," she squeaked, dissolving into mush as he looked her in the face.

"Lovely, glad to meet somebody with taste," he winked. "I hope you enjoy the show. Wanna go get some more wine, Lisa? Vivienne?"

And like a gentleman, he put his arms round the two ladies and strolled them away.  
Pansy watched the display with annoyance, hating that Granger had gotten so much attention and not her, Blaise hadn't even acknowledged her existence! She hmmphed to the rock star waltzing and Sergei waved at Draco and his mum before they both were following suit.

"He's such a card," Georgia noted, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Blaise Zabini," Blaise answered, caught off guard that this random muggle girl was interested in him.

Georgia May Jagger was a part-time model for Vivienne Westwood, which is why she had attended and the reason Draco and Narcissa had managed to coerce her father into playing the gig, as she explained to a nodding Blaise.

"Yes, I had wanted my good friend Martin to come tonight, he loves being the centre of attention. Alas, he's in Milan this week and recommended I contact Vivienne, whose just been divine," Narcissa chimed in.

"She has been rather good, hasn't she? No negative comments yet about the outfits," Draco noted, trying to make his rye and coke last.

Getting drunk was not a priority tonight, though it clearly was for Hermione. He wanted her to feel guilty for talking shit behind his back, make her feel uncomfortable for being so accusatory of his career plans.

Did she really think he was going to fail?  
Should he care? He found that he did even though he certainly didn't want to.

So far she was being annoyingly delightful, it seemed uncharacteristic.

"Perhaps I should address the commoners," Draco continued, jerking his head to the Slytherin boys, abandoned by their ladies who were fascinated by a drop dead gorgeous Muggle model, one of Vivienne's few on a permanent contract.

"I'll join you," Blaise agreed, looking to Hermione. She shoo'd him away with a flourish of her hand, and he shook his head, entertained by her.

"Excuse me, I'm going to freshen up," Georgia sauntered off to the loos, winking to them before she went.

"So nice to have you here," Narcissa said as they were the last ones standing.

"Thank you, it's a very spectacular venue…..I'm going to get another drink. Watch the show…"  
Left alone with a charming woman in an otherwise devil family was too much for Hermione to process in this state.

She hobbled her way back to her tattooed vixen, who set her up with another drink before stumbling all the way to the marquee across the roof. A table situated close to the raised stage where Mick was gathering his musicians was empty, so Hermione aimed to plop herself down, hoping nobody would ruin this for her.

"What the hell is wrong with Granger?" Draco exhaled as he watched Blaise's girlfriend trip and then giggle on some muggle actor he didn't care about. He helped lead her to a table, mysterious concoction in her hand.

The men were all standing against the rails, puffing on a spliff, mary jane and ciggy's. Tobacco and weed.  
It was a ritual Miles had started. They'd agreed on doing it during large gatherings; being stoned was fun in crowds.

Draco wasn't chugging his alcohol, so he let himself be influenced. He'd only been high twice because of his 95% absence from social events. But now he needed to feel _something._

He passed it to Blaise. "No idea. She only ate a salad today, I think she's not used to the volume of gin to food ratio. She's lightweight to begin with."

"I thought she was hilarious," Miles spluttered, choking on the uneven air leaving his lungs. "Seriously, Daphne and the rest can be so snotty and uptight. Too afraid of messing their hair to enjoy this, too afraid to be nice to each other."

"That Dicky Jagger bloke _did _take a liking to her pretty quick..." Blaise murmured. "Although he's pretty plastered."

"He's always plastered," Draco commented, thinking back to his past encounters.

Then he was filled with contemplation on how right Blaise was. And Blaise was suddenly thoughtful too: _his_ bookworm-gal was the one to watch.

"It _is_ odd, Pansy was around Mick for a whole day. What criteria would he need to fancy a girl? Just _looks_, and Pansy looks really amazing, - I mean that was the point," Draco corrected noticing Theo's accusing eyebrow raise. "But he told me she seems too cold. Sergei was fine, he liked him."

"Pansy _is _cold, that's just her," Theo said. "Confidence is hard to find, and just because our girls have it… Astoria and the rest are just being honest, right? They don't care about some old Muggle bloke, do they? They just want to be in on who's who. He liked Hermione because she admires him. Yet she had to drink up just to try and talk to somebody famous – _er_."

He'd gone too far, and Blaise threw him a sneer.

"You're just jealous she looks better than Astoria when she makes an effort, and probably more so when she hasn't. I've seen the Greengrass girls _sans maquillage," _Blaise bit, Theo snarling in response.

"Yeah, right. She's not ugly, but she's no Slytherin Princess," he retaliated. "Too soft around the middle, too pale and plain because all she cares about is books."

"Oh, come off it, Theo. She's nice at least, doesn't have the IQ of a troll," Miles defended her. He didn't like discussing the girls as if they were nothing, though he would not dare voice it.

Theo huffed his disdain but went momentarily quiet.

"Exactly….and that's fine and dandy, but all the girls can be charming. Why would the Jagger bloke like her?" Draco felt that was the most idiotic question in the world to be asked by a boyfriend about his lady. "She's really smart, that's half the reason I wanted to date her. Just….I thought people found her boring."

"She's enchanting, you idiot," Adrian sighed. "Same with Sergei. They're not so lifeless like we're taught to be. Shun the outsiders, mum said. Hermione actually gives a shit, that's the difference. Showing interest, especially in others existence, makes people like you."

"Nah, yeah you're on to something. They look like right bitches, the girls" Lucian agreed flitting his fag to the ground, high-fiving a laughing Eric. "So unfriendly, those ladies. Unless you're fit enough, they'll drop you like a soiled sickle. At least you have a hot girlfriend who isn't a total waste of space, eh Blaise?" he continued, ribbing him.

Eric elbowed Blaise in the ribs as he threw the cherry off the roof, watching the ashes fall to the cement.  
"Bet she's freaky in the sheets, eh, mate? Seems the type, doesn't she lads?"

Draco rolled his eyes, waiting for the haze to affect him so he'd actually find the banter funny, or for Blaise to go off on Eric, something.

"What, haven't gotten to second base yet?" Graham Montague teased at his silence, in which most of the more immature company guffawed.

"Does she know about your exploits, Blaisey-boy?" Theo persisted, knowing this was Blaise's spot of contention, the marijuana making him more confident than normal against his 'friend'. "Like to paint yourself a saint, but you are _such_ a bad one, aren't ya?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Draco inquired, now lost at this turn of topic.

"Perhaps Hermione won't give it up as she knows that Blaise here will fuck just about any pretty thing that moves."

Draco was stunned, very unaware that Blaise would be promiscuous, the way he acted at school indicating the opposite, too picky.

Blaise knew this was coming, knew they'd ridicule him for being with Hermione, and about his conquests. So he very calmly turned away, looking out into the night against the railing.  
"I fucked her three times last night." He lit his cigar.

He was now in a sour mood. The buzzy high was mixing very poorly with the many scotches in his stomach, and he didn't fancy the idea that his friends actually _liked _his girlfriend.

Someone choked on their drink, and Draco for some odd reason was more gobsmacked than he felt he should be. Of course she wasn't a virgin, she was always all over Viktor Krum according to Narcissa, who had a giant crush on him and read the papers.  
The news she loved to bang just made him feel even more pathetic; he was a rich, eligible bachelor and she was just a know-it-all. But who was the one who could manage to land dates?

"Yeah. I fucked her. More than that. I made her cum, and I made her moan, chaps. Spanked her, pounded her, til she begged me to stop. And then ask for more. Completely sober. She _is _freaky in the sheets, and she was _good_. She wanted to keep going. Not at all like I would've expected. Way less demanding and prissy than most socialite bitches," he leaned in closer, to Theo. "And if you don't believe me, I can probably convince her to fuck in a bathroom stall."

"I don't want to hear this," Draco whined, putting a hand to his ear, slugging back his refreshed rum now.

"Of course not Draco, you haven't fucked anyone. Pansy is the only girl who wants your cock, but if she ever did get it, the novelty would finally wear off and she'd run back to Sergei, who is 100X better looking than you. And doesn't have the personality of an abrasive amoeba."  
Draco remained unfazed by the comment, too stoned to be violent, his emotional steel armour in place for times like these where his peers laughed in his face.

And you – " he pointed to Theo, who immediately stopped chuckling. "You got my leftovers, Theo. Astoria could still be mine, but she's a dime a dozen in the pureblood circle. Useless and catty. I told Hermione who I dated, she doesn't need to know I love meaningless sex when I can't find someone worthwhile. They don't count, those girls."

"What, all fifty thousand of them?" Theo hissed angrily, fists threatening to punch. "Funny how you tell me Hermione is on board to help your legal matters, and the day after you've fucked her."

"That's none of your damn business," Blaise uttered through gritted teeth. "Just like the number of women who wanted me. So I suggest if you want a job and a girlfriend, you keep your trap shut."

"So that's your angle then?" Draco inquired, realization gripping him. "You only want to date her because she'll be your own personal lawyer you can shag? To make you look good too, that's why you were so adamant on including Potter in everything. What if she messes up a case? Then what, you'll dump her and this whole ruse will be glaringly obvious?"

"She's not going to mess up," Blaise laughed loudly, billowing smoke into Draco's face before sauntering off. "And you just _try _to tell Hermione I'm 'using her', as you are suggesting. Go ahead, Draco. I'm sure she'll believe _you_."

Fire was burning in the pit of Draco's stomach, the flames enraging him.  
He wanted Blaise off his high horse; the one person who had ensured the title of being easier to hate than Theodore Nott. Because unlike Theo, Blaise pretended to be a good person when he was scum. Theo had the decency to wear his nastiness with un-honorable pride.

"Who knew Blaise was _like that?" _ was all Miles could murmur, speechless. "I knew he was kind of a player but…"

"I did," Draco spat, wiping his mouth as if he could erase the bad taste within it. "And I warned you all at school. Blaise thinks he has everything figured out, and if a cog goes amiss in his head, watch out. He doesn't like that you think Granger is cute. He'll be on the rampage to fix whatever behaviour he doesn't like. Especially if drunk."

"He's got to stop being such a dick," Theo mumbled, finally admitting he was tired of being treated that way.

"Oh shove it, you'll be his friend again when he offers you something good. Don't even lie about it."

"Oh yeah? So what if I do? Think you're better than him? Than us? Think you aren't as petty and shot-for-shot?"

"I never said that," Draco countered, sitting down on the stone, his mind too foggy, his suit too tight. He discarded his blazer and loosened his tie.

"Good. I want you to be, because I propose you do something. A bet, say, on the outcome."

Draco sighed, rubbing his temples. "_What_?"

Theo kneeled, his mischievous green eyes meeting his grey. "What does Blaise like most? Status. Now, his business is actually solid, he does do a good job of it, even if it's just for the prestige. So we can't go there. We must target his new lass, Miss Hermione, where it'll hurt him."

"What the bloody fuck are you on about?"

"Shhhh," he whispered, making sure only he could be heard, and everyone else wasn't paying attention;

"Get her to be on your side. Round her in for a legal matter you have, made up or not, and win her over. Try and get her to change the way she looks, and make her the exact opposite as she is now. Do you like the way she came tonight? Huh? Mister Stylist. Too scared to admit it or what?"  
Draco rolled his eyes and tried to find her.

"She looks fine."

"_Fine?"_

"Fine. She looks like Blaise orchestrated everything about the way she was going to appear. Same old Blaise, typical. I actually warned her at that Quidditch match that he had an angle and that she should watch out, to mess with her head. Don't know if it did. But guess I'm right though."

"Yeah, you are. You could tell her he's lying about the sex, but she won't believe you. He was correct in that assumption. And she'd probably be too afraid to ask any of the girls about his past. Wouldn't it be funner to torment Blaise, undermine him using the one thing he can't have complete autonomy over? Especially when she's hated you forever? Make Blaise see you two be friendly, paranoia swallowing him whole until he can't stand it and explode. To have her realize on her own that he's a colossal dick, instead of being told?"

"But _why_ would I do that, Theodore?" he sighed, agreeing that it would be immensely satisfying. Yet hard. Pansy would kill him if she knew he was making nice with Granger.

"Because it kills you that Blaise is held with such prestige, when you know he doesn't deserve it."

"Maybe that's how _you _feel, but everyone seems to want to be nice again to me. Neither do I deserve this when Mummy paid for all this," he gesticulated to the roof. "I'm just tired of him, alright. Maybe I wanted to make him jealous, but his cock is his business, and if Granger is too stupid to figure out her mistake than I was wrong about her intelligence."

"Come on, do it. I bet you. If you can get Granger to let you make her over, an obvious no-no forbidden by Blaisey, I will never insult you again. And I will defend your honour any time somebody else does."

"Yeah right, mate. What if I can't do it?"

"That will be embarrassment enough. The publicized rejection of you by her. Humiliating. I'll never let you live it down."

"Any stipulations?" Draco continued, wondering why the hell he was even considering this.

"She has to _like _her transformation, and she has to talk fondly of you. So play nice," he drawled, coming to sit next to Draco.

Draco turned to Theodore, not understanding his actions at all. "Why do you want this so badly?"

Theo sighed. "You're the only one with enough venom in you to pull it off. We all know it. You hate each other so you're distant. I work for him, he knows too much dirt on everyone except you."

"I still don't…."

"Look, I'll level with you. I usually can't stand your stupid Malfoy face but…you don't give a fuck and I admire it. Blaise hangs Astoria above my head like a piñata I'll never break, and lucky fucking me, _I love her. _I didn't when Blaise suggested she and I go out sometime, but after a year I think I'll pitifully admit I'd be crushed if she was gone. She says she loves me, but I can her checking men out. I realize I'm not as enticing as some of the others. If Blaise stole her away from me with words or worse I'd….." he growled and clenched his fists.

Draco watched Theo stare straight ahead at Astoria, who was cooing over the male model still. For once he felt that Theodore Nott was a human being, and had justifiable anger. A weakness; an Achilles' heel.

"_Deal_."

Draco stood up, grabbed a flute of champagne and wandered over to the marquee, where Mick had already begun his set, halfway through it now.

Theo gave a stunned _"what" _and Draco shot him a look, then nodded.

_"Let me please introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste! But what's puzzlin' you is the nature of mah game!"_

Mick was crowing into the mic, putting on a dashing drunken display, Draco thought. He laughed as he watched the senior strut around, charming the pants off of everyone in the vicinity.

Draco marched right up to Hermione and leaned against the table so close to the stage, admiring her guts as she belted the lyrics along with him.

"Had a bit too many?" He asked, the alcohol enabling him to not be afraid of dire consequence of sitting next to her. "You're making a damn fool of yourself singing aloud."

"Oh maybe," Her eyes were glazed and cheeks flushed. "I just love this song though."

"So you liked the party then? Take back your words about my incompetence?"

"Not yet," she giggled, pushing her arms in the air, the rhythm so catchy. "You haven't actually presented your business plan, have you?"

"I have. I came with a bunch of pretty people in nice clothes. That's all I need. Create some mystery and people wonder about you. They want to know more. The last thing you want to do is push yourself onto others too much, the advertising was just needed to show the splendour of it all."

Hermione stopped for a moment, breathing heavily from all the chanting. "That's remarkably clever."

'Draco was taken aback', is a phrase understated.

"Just as every cop is a criminal, and _all_ the sinners saints. As heads is tails, just call me Lucifer, cause I'm in need of some restraint!"

"You certainly are," Draco remarked, jolted at her sudden burst of song. "What is this song anyway?"

"God, you are _so_ dense. Don't even research the musical guest? It's 'Sympathy for the Devil.'"

"Hm, you seemed to have researched him a bit too much, Granger. Practically salivated on him."

"How could I _not? _He's in the greatest band of all time!" she screeched. " I'm so glad I got to meet him in my lifetime. And see him _play._"

"Is that a thank you then to me? Indirectly?"

"Oh alright, thank you Draco. And thank you for not kicking me out the moment you realized Harry wasn't showing up." She said the last part almost gazing in his eyes, sincerely.

Even though she was out of it, it felt much too uncomfortable for Draco to fathom. That she thought because of her blood or because of her friends that he'd kick her out.

"Don't thank me for _that_," he said quietly, looking down at the bubbles in his glass.

Mick finished and the crowd hooted and clapped wildly. They sat together, an odd pair, observing the next few songs. Hermione was unable to stay quiet, seeing as Mick pointed at her several times with a smile, and because she knew every single line on his set list. It was also evident as she tried to settle that Hermione was unable to stay still. Draco felt out of place but found it all amusing. He regretted not exiting sooner at Hermione's next statement, but knew it was rude to leave during his own party's main event.

The last stanza of "You Can't Always Get What You Want" was stirring the press and avid fans, so Mick started up a slow encore.

"Have you seen Blaise? It's been nice having him not make asinine comments about everyone else's inadequacy but I think I should go to the hotel. Much too drunk if I'm talking civilly to you," she winked, and Draco felt a knot twist in his chest. _Hotel?_

"No, he stormed off about thirty minutes ago. I'll help you find him, I suppose," he agreed reluctantly, remembering he was the host. Pansy was nowhere in sight, so he had no excuse to run off.

Hermione was off-foot as she stood up, and Draco managed to catch her arm before she fell. She clutched his thigh for support before getting upright, grazing his cock before wriggling free from his grip. He gulped down his libido, instructing her to wait by the door while he got Blaise.

He wanted to discard his shirt with how heated he felt now as he walked to the loo, embarrassed _Granger _had that effect.  
"I really need to get laid," he muttered to himself, splashing cold water on his face as he stood over the bathroom sink.

Moans of pleasure and grunts of physical exertion were now audible in Draco's ears, the fuss from the guitars blocking it outside these walls.

"_Fucking irony."_

He moved to a stall, hating urinals, to unzip his pants and take a leak. Suddenly voices were heard in the next one over.

"_Uh, Blaise! Blaise! Oh, god. Fuck, you better make sure you keep your promises, I want your cock in me again."_

Draco froze.  
It was Georgia May.  
And Blaise.

_Georgia May and Blaise._

He couldn't give a shit if a famous rock star daughter wanted to bang blokes, but this was a 'committed' man. _Cheating. _Taking Hermione in here right now would serve more justice than he probably could get from doing Theo's bet.

But the dark side of Draco was raring his ugly head now that Blaise showed he'd do something so disgusting. This blackmail was too good to pass up. He pissed and then fumbled for his stupid 'smart phone', fishing it from his pocket to turn the noise off. He had to endure a full minute of gross sex-talk before he found the video camera, but he turned it on so there would be sound, and like an expert sleuth, pushed it under the raised barrier on the ground.

From the view finder he could vaguely see her riding him while he was astride the toilet seat. They weren't wearing protection, and Blaise had no wand to cast any kind of spell. He made sure their faces and names were seen and repeated, trying to erase the image immediately. Draco sent it to his three different e-mails, a tip learnt from Pansy, so nobody could delete it unless they knew the password.

Outside the loo, he waited for Blaise to come out while he smoked another joint he got a bartender to roll, the couple taking an extra 10 minutes more. He had to be placated to not punch him outright in the face.

"Your lady is waiting for you," he startled Blaise, pointing to a swaying Hermione, and playing oblivious to the giggling model parting ways. Giving Blaise bedroom eyes before hugging her father at the bar.

"Nice party, Draco," is all he replied. "See you later."  
Walking over to Hermione he adjusted his suit. Draco felt sickened when she raised her voice and hugged him tightly, having not seen him for a while.

Luckily for Hermione though, as they got back to their room down the block, she was far too out of it to do anything romantic. She fell asleep immediately.

That dawn, Draco was finally settling in. But he couldn't get slumber to catch him. His night was a great success, and he met a lot of new connections. Which was the point. All of the more important clientele seemed to enjoy themselves, and the press thanked him for a great opportunity.

Though wasted and buzzed, Draco squirmed and could not shake the vision of Blaise fucking Hermione until she screamed and came. After he'd been with another girl.  
He realized it was wracking guilt that was eating him alive; he was a horrible miscreant for not telling her when he actually witnessed it firsthand.

Fortunately, he already was enacting a plan. And he was certain it would work.  
No sympathy for this devil.


	6. Justify The Means

Chapter Six: Justify The Means

To say that Hermione was a _little_ hungover would be like saying that the Titanic hitting the iceberg created a _little _problematic hole in the hull.

It was noon on Tuesday, and she was still lying in bed. Whatever was in that drink mixture had truly rendered her inert. She woke up in the hotel at checkout time the day before, Blaise pushing her to gather her things, a headache splitting her face open.

Returning back to the apartment, a bombardment of questions from Ginny awaited her, who'd read about the event in the _Prophet. _Turns out the snapshot of she and Blaise standing with Draco and company had made it in the entertainment section. Highlighting how she attended with such a high-profile date, more important gossip to Wizard-kind than any Muggle rock star or designer.

If she was honest, Hermione couldn't remember consecutive memories of the night, just blurs of it. Blaise seemed a bit off when he'd dropped her off, and she only hoped she hadn't done something stupid. She hadn't yet sat down and tried to piece it together.

Lying wasn't something Hermione resorted to often, but she was tired. She ended up telling Ginny it was fun because she'd met Mick Jagger, but nothing special. Refusing dinner she went to sleep to nurse her bad judgement with suggestive remarks from her flatmate. She didn't bother explaining that no sex was had that night, Ginny wouldn't have believed her anyways, trying to get the alcohol out of her system. The dishonesty continued as one day off ended up not being enough, so her holiday was extended. Calling in sick, she informed Gladys she must've caught food poisoning from the crab cakes she didn't eat.

Now she felt guilty but pleased she didn't have to strain her eyes to read about the latest dull case unfolding, and stretched. Then got up to actually eat something. She took out the milk, groaning at the news clipping Ginny decided to pin up on the fridge. It was the picture; Hermione was smiling too brightly in her drunkenness at the camera while everyone else in the circle had a cool grin. She sighed, trying not to think about Pansy Parkinson and her date laughing at her when they saw it.

Pouring a bowl of cereal and brewing some tea she slumped down on the sofa, and leafed her way through a lame fashion mag Ginny took a liking to for the sex advice. As she was sipping her cup, out of the corner of her eye she spotted a flash of red.

_Miss Hermione Granger  
Kilburn, London  
**URGENT**_

It was a wizard letter that was peaking from underneath the hydro bill on the mail stack. Anxiety gripped her stomach as she snatched it up to open it. Urgent letters in that world were not that common unless it was serious.  
Was it a summons? Was she fired?

Her mind zoomed at a hundred miles an hour about the possibilities. Her hands were shaking and she began to feel her breathing hyperventilate until…  
She paused, noticing a silver _'M' _ seal was keeping it together.

"No. It _can't_ be…." She said aloud. It wasn't the Ministry stamp, it was a family crest. Unfolding the parchment, her suspicions became true as she began to read. "Bollocks."

{}

_Monday, July 2._

_Dear Hermione,_

_You left your wand with security before departing my wonderful party last night. I'll be working at home this entire week so feel free to stop by any point before 5 pm. I do have somewhat of a life. A little notice would be nice, but I'm not picky._

_And no, I'm not going to give it to anybody else to take care of or pass off to you. Unless you physically pick it up from me I'm not really arsed to try and find out your exact address. If Blaise is incompetent enough to forget to grab your wand along with his, he obviously didn't care enough in the first place._

_My address is on the back of this. Tell your name to security, I let them know you might be dropping in._

_Yours truly,  
Draco Malfoy  
Like Magic Inc._

_PS: Before you start mouthing me off to Potter, I'm doing you a favour. Trust me. Protocol for losing a wand is that the Ministry destroys it and requires you to get a new one. But I bet you knew that, didn't you? _

{}

Trust _him?_

Hermione felt herself grow pale at the realization that she was obligated to step inside Draco Malfoy's less than humble abode. She felt immensely stupid too that she was irresponsible enough to get drunk and forget the most important tool in her everyday life. Like losing her birth certificate.

Though it _was _a kind thing to do, saving her wand, he had to have some other angle for getting her alone. A favour for being a 'gentleman', or maybe revenge on Blaise for something petty? Worst part was that she knew Draco knew she wouldn't dare inform Blaise of where she was going, and certainly did not want to tell Ginny. Until Ginny would likely notice she was annoyed and sussed it out of her, that is.

She contemplated this for a moment. Why was she so hesitant of Blaise finding out about her making a visit to a house? She shouldn't be _scared _of his reaction, for heaven's sake, that wasn't healthy. Still, she didn't want to start a fire until she knew for sure what Draco was after, as surely somebody like him wouldn't do anything pleasant for somebody like her without anything in return.

"Might as well get this over with," she moaned.  
Appetite gone.

Not bothering to make much effort as her head was still out of sorts, she went to her wardrobe and threw on some black tights and, probably ironically, an oversized Rolling Stones sweater. If it were anybody else she had to deal with, she may have laughed. She cursed the piles of laundry she had put off in heed of paper work.

"Praise Odin, Merlin, and Jesus for me Crookshanks," she pleaded dramatically to the relaxed kitty, who was lying on her bed, carefree.

She brushed her hair out, spritzed on some Chanel No. 5 (instead of showering because she figured she'd have to wash of the Malfoy stench when she came back), and shoved on a pair of beat up combat boots. Grabbing an umbrella, wallet and tube tokens, she set out on the wet summer street to catch the N98. It was, of course, very late.

Thirty minutes later, she was irritated in the humidity as she stepped out of the London Underground and into Mayfair. She'd been here only once. Ginny suggested they check out Green Park, the city life had made her friend miss the greenery of Ottery St. Catchpole. Now she was trying to navigate her way to '15 Curzon Square', through streets of extremely expensive looking flats and houses very close to Hyde Park.

Finally, after some direction from a man in a suit, she spotted a massive black brick building on the edge of the sidewalk, and as she crossed over to it felt overwhelmed by the elegant interior and cleanliness. Shaking it off, she did as she was instructed.

"How may I help you today, miss?"  
A bored looking guard was sitting at the concierge, in the middle of a rousing round of solitaire.

"Hi…I'm here to see Draco Malfoy." The guard's face remained unmoving. "If he's in. I've never been to his flat before, so I don't know the number….He uh, told me to just mention my name, Hermione Granger."

Sighing, the guard closed his game, pulling up something on his computer after several clicks. "Yes Miss Granger, it appears he's instructed us to let you through. ID, please?"

She gave him the driver's license she never used, and he took it for a total of three seconds before passing it back.  
"At the end of the hallway. #3."

He buzzed the glass door open and she gathered her wits to make her way to the metaphorical gates of hell.

Inside his home, Draco was speaking to Theodore Nott on his mobile, surprised he'd give in to buying one. Draco had already taken his bet seriously, mostly as an excuse to go ahead with his scheme to hurt Blaise, but Theo wanted to ensure that Draco knew he wasn't just letting the alcohol and drugs take the wheel when he suggested it.

"Glad we're on par. Now, one thing I wanted to clear up; you can't tell _anybody_ about this, Draco," he exhaled through the receiver, puffing on his smoke break.

"And why not?" Draco asked, turning the volume down on his speakers, and leaning back against his sofa.

"Because if word gets out I _know _Blaise will find out. He looks into everything suspicious. And we can't have that happen, now, can we?" he replied. He meant business, Draco could tell.

"If Pansy notices me sidling up all friendly-like to Granger, she's going to want answers. You just don't want to get fired if it all becomes sour."

"True. But you can lie to her, right? You're not under some sort of ancient Parkinson spell? Just don't include me in your excuses, Astoria would kill me."

"Alright, alright, so bossy."

"Yes, I am. Any progress by the way? Only been two days, but you said you had something already going? Blaise really rustled your jimmies didn't he?"

Draco smirked. If only he knew what kind of evidence he'd collected, what nastiness he had up his sleeve.

"Granger left her wand at the party. I'm making her come pick it up here. That's all you need to know."

"_What?_ What are the odds! When is she coming?" Theo was astounded.

"No idea. I gave her a week. I've got somebody on the other line, Theo. Need to go."  
He couldn't stand talking to the bloke for more than five minutes.

"Mate, you're killing me. Come to the club this weekend, catch up with the lads to fill me in."

"Maybe, might be busy. Bye, Nott." He clicked him off, shaking his head at how much of a chameleon Theodore could turn into when you were on his side. "Draco Malfoy. May I ask who's calling?"

"Hi, Mr. Malfoy. It's Michael….um, your bookkeeper?"  
Draco held back a snort. Michael was older than him, and Mr. Malfoy made him feel like his father.

"Finance Manager, Michael. You won't just be doing books. Plus it sounds more professional."  
Michael Lott was a fresh out of school graduate looking for a job. Any job. He hired him a few days ago. Draco found him awkward, but he was very keen and nice enough to follow instruction without back talking.

"Oh, right. I was calling because I was just wondering when you needed me?"  
_Guess his rent's due_, is what popped into Draco's head. _God, I'm an arse._

"Not until next week, I'm afraid. If you're requiring some pay, I'm sure I can –"  
The door suddenly was being thunked, surprising Draco while simultaneously filling him with the gleeful thought that it might be Hermione.  
"Michael, I'm afraid I have a visitor. Use that company credit card I gave you to make business cards, alright? With _Finance Manager _as your title, yes? And make sure the company logo is on it. Can you do that, Michael?"

"Y-yes, sir." He knew he was being totally condescending, but Draco found great joy in being the leader.

"Alright. I will set up your direct deposit tonight, expect your first weeks wages by tomorrow morning. I'll call you later, if you really need me fire up an e-mail. Bye Michael."

He strolled to the entrance hall, opening the door wide, and grinned at the sight of his old school rival flushing.

"So you decided to show up, then? You disappointed me, Granger, I thought you'd certainly inform me when you'd be coming."

Hermione straightened up and self-consciously tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Draco noticed she was slightly damp from the outside, and wanted to laugh at her choice of attire, wondering if it was coincidence or a subtle 'fuck-you' to him.

"Somehow, I didn't think you'd mind, seeing as you get to tease me for it."

"Come on now, Granger. Always so hostile. Want to come in?" He leaned out of the frame, a lazy gait in an attempt at appearing relaxed.

"Not particularly, no. But I assume that you left my wand in an inconspicuous place so I must go in regardless."  
He smiled at her, which only caused her to be more annoyed. For once she wanted him to appear fussed that she always knew what he was up to.

"I'll chalk up your unpleasant attitude to exhaustion. You look like hell."

"Thanks," she replied sarcastically. "Fault goes to your allowance of mind-altering substances at your party."  
_Testy, _is what he continued to think, surprised that she actually was a naughty girl and drank those mixtures. Or knew about them.

"And not to you? Who drank so much in a four hour span that you were hungover for two days?" he ribbed, moving back inside to let her in. "As I recall you came with the intention of being in a state of drunken spite."

"I did," she admitted forthright stepping inside and discarding her boots. "I think I failed on the spite part."

"You tried. Kept your word, at least. Want some tea? Coffee?"

"Tea is fine," she muttered, confused as to why he was being so cheery. It was weird.

Exasperated that he couldn't have just handed her wand so she could get on with her life, she found herself unwillingly impressed with the layout of his house. She gaped, realizing it was two-stories, only becoming gobsmacked as the expansive kitchen he led her to was amazing; cream stone floors, dark wooden cabinets with white accents and a fully stocked bar. The ceiling was at least ten feet high, with flood lights and windows that spanned the walls.

The kitchen was open concept that led into a giant curved room, with a large oval sofa facing a TV, artwork lining the wooden walls, oriental cushions and rugs all around.

"You approve of it, then?" Draco inquired, noticing her scanning the premises.

"Yes, it's quite nice," she replied politely, figuring she was being very rude to someone who had an important possession of hers held captive.

Finding it strange she'd say something pleasant to him at all, he was reminded of her change in attitude a few days previous when she was wasted.  
"So out of curiosity, do you remember anything at all about that night?"

He traipsed to the cupboard, gathering fifteen different kinds of tea boxes and laying them ceremoniously on the island to which she was now sitting. She eyed him with bewilderment as he turned on the kettle, an odd display of homeliness.  
She had to admit seeing him so calm was a rare thing, not being overly obnoxious as she remembered him. It wasn't as if she'd really had any encounters with him since school to be fair, but being nice wasn't usually on his agenda.

"Like tea, do you?"

"Love it," he replied with no discomfiture. "So, do you remember?"

"I remember bits of it. I remember drinking, lots of drinking. Then trying to talk to your friends and failing, meeting Mick Jagger to snorts of derision from Pansy, and singing along like an idiot to a really good performance."

He let a small genuine chuckle escape before he could stop it, something Hermione noticed. Did he find her amusing?

He did, but he found it more hilarious she actually thought he was friends with people like Daphne and Lucian.

"Do you by chance remember telling me that my business plan was 'remarkably clever'? And thanking me for the opportunity of seeing the Rolling Stones in your lifetime?" he smirked in an attempt to recover, pointing to her sweater. A blush crept over her face, his words evoking the memories.

"I do, yes. I did have a good time, I will give you that." She played with the selections of tea, internally scoffing at the pretentious nature of them. They all instructed you how long to steep the leaves for, and what temperature you should do so at.

"Glad to hear it. Made your choice? I myself like raspberry chai." He yanked a bag out of the container and pulled two mugs from a very empty cupboard.

"Uh, well I suppose I could try it. Usually I just drink green, but it seems that's the only one you don't have."

"I _loathe _green tea," he replied with a grimace, taking out another bag and shoving the boxes to the side for clean-up later.  
She fought the urge to tell him he was crazy; that would be much too friendly.

Pouring them both a cup, he pushed hers across the surface and stood there facing her.

"Thank you," she said quietly.  
Silence passed, and she found her eyes wandering over his body. She was startled he was wearing Muggle clothes outside of public eye, but was more startled that they were so grungy. Tight black jeans and a faded muscle shirt with a strange design on it; surely meant to look old, surely far more expensive than they should be. Perhaps he really _was_ trying to retaliate against mum and dad. Envisioning Lucius Malfoy fainting at his son's appearance pleased her greatly, and she took a sip to hide her grin.

His hair was short, she continued the scrutiny, and not gelled back like it was at school. Styled in a careless way while framing his face nicely. The feature she noticed most, which she hated herself for, was his eyes. Used to staring at a steel wall, the grey was softer, and friendlier. It made no sense to her unless it really was a ruse she thought he was trying to get her to participate in.

"You like it?" he asked, breaking the peace. For a moment she thought he was asking if she liked his appearance.

"Very much," she answered truthfully, furrowing her brow. Slanting back on the stool, she took a deep breath. "Now, Draco, not to sound mean or ungrateful, but why have you invited me in? It's not like we're old mates, and I never got the vibe you were particularly fond of me."

"I try at friendliness and this is the response," he shook his head jokingly. "Alas, you do have me cornered, Hermione. And yes, I will use your name if you'd prefer not to be childish. I merely think it fun," he winked, making her uncomfortable again.

"Well what is it?"

"I need your help," he said simply, a wicked smirk on him.

"My _help_?" Odd that Blaise had foreseen this kind of thing popping up, she mused.

"As you very well know, my business is new. It was pointed out to me by Vivienne when I had her fit Pansy for her dress that I didn't have any sort of contract whipped up for future clients. Honestly, it barely crossed my mind. Seeing though, as it is the 21st century, and Wizarding laws are a bit, shall we say skewed? I think I'd greatly benefit from having a legal document that ensures I won't get sued or fucked over for something stupid. It's not as if I live in a village of 50 and I know every face. I'd like the freedom to end having sessions with somebody who continually disagrees with what I think looks good on them. No refunds," he recited all this to her, as if he'd practiced saying it to a mirror.

Hermione was a bit stunned.

"I don't know why you would want _me _for the job, Draco," she admitted after a moment of thought. "There are plenty of higher-ups, especially in the Muggle world, who are far more qualified than me."

"Problem is, love, that you are both proficient in the Muggle and Wizard climates. Plus, you aren't 105 years old, you're surely more up to date than anyone else I could hire, a dead ringer for the job. I'd pay you, of course. And it's a onetime thing, isn't it? Unless I need more assistance."

His logic was actually sound, but a voice in the back of her mind was screaming 'It's a trap!'

"I just…this is very strange."

"Oh, I know. But we're adults, aren't we? I'm completely serious, and the only reason I invited you over is because I knew if I wrote you a letter you probably wouldn't even read it."

"Except you _did _write me a letter, and I _did _read it," she shot back.

"That was for the wand. Sooner or later you'd realize you'd left it. Look, if Blaise wasn't going to flip, would you even consider saying yes?"

"And what makes you think Blaise would flip?" she countered, staying as cool as she could while death-gripping the poor mug.

"It's Blaise, sweetheart," he said matter-of-factly, so which she both turned scarlet and became more infuriated. "Theodore was telling me about how you agreed to make him a top client now that you've decided to go corporate. That's how I know about your focus decision, in case you were wondering."

"I repeat, why would he be mad?" She didn't care if he knew about her career, she wanted to know why he thought Blaise was so horrible.

"Because Blaise doesn't like me, as you must have gathered from him pissing on me 24/7. I doubt you told him I sent you this letter? Or that you even lost your wand."

_Damn him_, Hermione thought, keeping a straight face.

"Of course I haven't yet, I only opened it an hour ago. This isn't a big deal," she lied, knowing Blaise would seize up and come up with a hundred different reasons Draco was undermining him.

"Oh but it is. I already told you, he likes to control everything. He plays it confident, but honestly, don't you know how insecure he is? Caught you in his little web by being handsome and good with words, but you deserve better than that. I wasn't lying when I said he had a plan for you. I think the plan's pretty obvious, hmm? Surely he's given you 'permission' for things normal people don't have to ask about in relationships?"

Her stomach began to twist in knots. Knowing that Draco could be this observant having only seen them together a total of two times was disturbing, and he'd known him forever too. Maybe she was trying too hard to see the positive light in Blaise. Because he hadn't done anything bad to her, but she did get the feeling that she always was walking on eggshells, she was always wanting to please him when he had high expectations. But if he pointed out something she didn't like, he'd brush her off.

"That's really none of your business," she smiled, taking another gulp of tea which was, in fact, very delicious. "Thanks for your concern though. I think I can fend for myself in knowing when I'm being used."

"You're too nice."

"I don't want to talk about this," she almost growled. "You don't know me, and you barely know him when he's away from everyone else. This is totally inappropriate. Now, I forgot to say it at the door, but thank you for keeping my wand. Can I please have it?"

"No problem," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "Of course you can darling, it's just in here."

She rolled her eyes and stood up, following him into the living room, which was littered with books and CD cases. Faintly, The Beatles could be heard on the stereo, and she fought the urge to comment on the fact that this was her favourite album.  
Human traces that perhaps Malfoy could be a _normal _person was unnerving to her, as she watched him go to a shelf on the other side of the room, into which she could make out a splendid dining area.

In a shoe box, Draco reached up and handed her what she came for. She relayed more gratitude and grazed past him. Chanel No. 5 drifted in his senses, and he was reminded of when she accidentally touched his cock as he helped her up.

And then images of her fucking Blaise filled his mind, and he balled his fists, sincerely hoping she didn't bloody remember him being decent to her, if she was going to be insolent and refuse to see that he was right.

It was tortuous for her, he knew it. She liked to see the good in people when there wasn't any left in Blaise. He had to plant these ideas in her mind to make her overthink them, and one day she'd realize he wasn't the villain. Theo never said he couldn't hint to her what Blaise was up to, and if she thought Draco had a glimmer of goodness in him to warn her about it, then he could get her to be persuaded much easier.

"So I take it you're saying no to me?" he said gently as Hermione marched to his door.

Hermione spun around, and was about to utter a haughty 'yes', when she noticed his face.

"What's wrong….? Are you actually upset?" she asked in bewilderment.

He was upset that he couldn't keep his poker face on while she was here. He really was bursting to show her the video he had, he didn't want her to 'make love' to Blaise ever again. And it bothered him that he wasn't indifferent about her actions.

Trying to swing this in his favour, he turned his manipulation metre up ten switches. He cleared his throat.  
"A bit. You seem to think I'm trying at some kind of scheme, which I totally get, by the way. But I'm not. I'm not trying to rile you up by bringing up Blaise, I just know how he works. Fine if you want to be with him, but don't try to pretend like he's not going to act like how I said. I'm simply a) trying to give you work, and b) really do need help. I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing, do I? I can put on a face pretty well, but I seriously didn't consider having a contract until it was pointed out to me. Rookie mistake."

She was extremely surprised at how vulnerable his tone was. And despite keeping her guard up, she got the feeling that he was actually telling her the truth.

Tentatively she began her next sentence with an air of apprehension.  
"If you're serious about this, I'll need a list of items you want me to include in the contract; all the conditions, all the means for terminating a client, if you have a set price for your services or if its negotiable, things along that vein. You have to dictate how lax or airtight you want it. And if you want two different contracts for wizards and muggles."

"And?"  
She saw his lips upturn into some expression that resembled being grateful, and she loathed herself for being affected by it.

"And that will take some time. When is your first client meeting? Or do you even have any?" she asked skeptically.

"Oh how you doubt me, Granger." He pulled out his phone from a pocket and thrust it into her face. She clutched it into her hand, business inbox opened, to see 167 messages unread. Her mouth gaped open slightly.

"Most of them, from the subject line, are inquiring about the cost per session, but about 50 of them want me immediately. I honestly chalk this up solely to having Mick Jagger at my party. For some reason they think I styled him too, a fault by some journalist."

"When is your first client meeting?" she repeated.

"Next week, but it's with Astoria," he said, rolling his eyes. "I promised Theo for some reason, that she could go first."

"I'll need a bit of time to whip it up, it's straight-forward mostly. And I need all that information I just listed, in great detail. Unless you want to be sued."

"No, we wouldn't want that. I could meet up with you for dinner somewhere, talk about your service charges, and I about the stipulations," he suggested. Her face was mangled, unable to come up with anything that would be polite. "Okay, clearly that's a no."  
And he laughed.  
She did not.

"So what do you suggest? I mean, I can e-mail you the details, but you'll probably have to follow it up, right?" She nodded. "I could call you?"

"Uh, yes I suppose you could."

"Have a phone?" She replied that it wasn't on her, so he procured a business card resting on his kitchen counter and scribbled his digits on it. "And yours?"

Reluctantly, as he handed her his cell again, she typed in hers, as well as her house number into a new contact file.

"Great," he smiled. "Thank you."

"Uh, you're welcome," she replied, unnerved by this turn of events.  
Before she could fully process it all though, she was out the door, telling him it might be a week if she was as busy as she was normally. Deciding on the tube again, she sat on the dingy public transit, and realized exactly what she had just agreed to.

Dreading the Spanish Inquisition from Ginny when she got home, as surely she would sort out that something was off, she groaned and hoped to Merlin that Blaise wouldn`t freak out when she informed him of one of her first clients.

Back in the luxury side of town, Draco couldn`t wipe the smirk off his face.  
"That was far too easy."

He poured the remnants of tea into the sink, contemplating how he would inform Pansy of what he was up to. She had wanted to meet up for drinks later in the day.

Yet as the night came and went, he found no good opportunity to do so, and any strangled attempt at starting the conversation was blocked out by something else. _Strange, _he thought. Pansy was one of the few he had no qualms talking to about most things. Instead of fretting about this new development however, he drowned himself in scotch so it didn't matter anymore.

_The Following Sunday: Thank You Dinner_

"You know, Draco, since the party I've received over a hundred letters, emails and phone calls asking who you are," Vivienne told him beaming. "And many of my colleagues just loved the dress you picked out for your friend, Pansy."

"Glad to hear it. It was the aim, anyways. She looks good in everything but seems to think I know how to dress her best," he shrugged.

"Oh don't be silly. You picked the right shade for her skin, the right cut for her body, and she had the right personality not to be overwhelmed by the pattern. That is talent, lest you think it isn't. You probably just aren't aware that most people have no idea how to be individual and interesting, most of your friends were pretty good."

Andreas, Vivienne's husband, nodded earnestly at her words, digging heartily into his _steak frites. _Andreas, who was 25 years her junior, and a former model and student to her. A Malfoy wasn't one to judge age difference given his family history, but he couldn't help but find it all humorous. This 72 year old fashion icon, with dyed orange hair and studded everything with an enthusiastic Austrian muscle-man who always looked like he had just been on a heroin binge.

The reason he found himself in their company was because he thought it necessary to invite Vivienne out for a dinner to say thanks. Though his mother gave him the initial contact, it was essentially all her doing that he managed to get Mick Jagger at his party, which by cause and effect was one of the only reasons he had so many clients lined up. Now they sat in Galvin at Windows, a literal 2 minute walk from his flat, and an 80 pound a head restaurant.

"Thank you. And thank you for making time for me to come out here," he grinned. He was surprised she had a free schedule on a Sunday, only one week after the soiree.

"First weeks of July are the slow ones of the year. August is when we have to really get it together for the fall release," she drawled, winking.

"So you're going to fit me in that dress for the fall and winter collection right?"  
Georgia May had decided to join her second mother for supper. Mick was away, and Georgia was on summer vacation from college, she normally lived in New York City. Draco obviously couldn't say no to her attendance, but was trying his damnedest to ignore her. For fear that he would either feel immense guilt or anger at the fact he had footage of her fucking, and that she had horrible taste in blokes who cheated without a second whim.

He was toying with the idea of releasing the video to the public in a way that would not be traced back to him. However, it would really humiliate Hermione on a national spectrum, and he didn't really want that because it was unlikely she would recover quickly, even if she was resilient. Any suggestion of a makeover, and she would zap him into dust, thinking he was using her in a vulnerable state. Plus, Georgia May seemed to be a nice girl, though Draco disproved of somebody who paid no heed to relationship status, and it wouldn't be fair for her when she really had nothing to do with this.

"We'll see. I was almost considering asking Pansy to walk in the show. A bit stuck up of a girl, but she has the attitude I need."

"Oh, yes. And her boyfriend was simply dashing," Andres chimed in his accent, mouth full.

"Hm, you know sometimes you worry me," Vivienne chuckled. "You think she'd like that, Draco? If I were to ask?" Georgia May pouted for a split second before sipping her champagne, recovering immediately, as she was used to rejection quite often being a model.

"Yes, she would most definitely. I think she'd explode with egotism, actually. Very proud, that girl," he smirked.

"Good."

"Question though, from before. I'm intrigued," he polished off the last of his bass and swallowed. "You said my friends were dressed 'pretty good'. They'd be very depressed if they heard that they weren't flawless. What does that mean, exactly?"

"Simple. Most of them had help picking out their ensembles, and most of them tried to adhere to the age-old social rule on what looks good and what does not. It was quite obvious."  
He was reminded of telling Theo that Hermione looked 'fine' right before the deal, because he knew Blaise put it together for her. Maybe he _did_ have a knack.

"I think I might've fallen victim to that," Draco admitted, while Vivienne shook her hand at him.

"No, no. You liked the grey suit; you wore it. People are very caught up in about what others think, I don't get that vibe from you. Besides, I doubt you would've been able to top Mick, for god's sake he was wearing red velvet pants and a bobby cop helmet."

"True," he chuckled. "I didn't want to try. Though my circle is very serious about topping one another."

Thinking of Hermione again, somehow he needed to enact a plan of action to make him win favour to his favourite Gryffindor gal. It was sick really, because without that blackmail he probably couldn't pull any of this off. Or so he thought.

"Speaking of your circle, have you seen your dishy friend Blaise recently?"

Draco paused, composing himself before he replied with a, "No, he's very busy. We're not glued to the hip mates, i'm afraid."

"Oh, that's too bad. He said he'd get in touch with me but I haven't gotten any word," she slumped.

"Why would he get in touch, if you don't mind my asking?"  
Something was off. If Georgia had knowingly cheated with Blaise, she wouldn't be bringing it up now.

Georgia grinned sheepishly under Vivienne's curious gaze. "I sort of…hooked up with him. At your party."

Silence ensued as Draco wanted to go on bended knees and thank Yahweh for granting him a way out. For making his bite a little less venomous when he decided to attack. Golden opportunity, perhaps fate even, it was that she would admit this aloud. Because now he didn't have to use the video, this was _much _better.

"Blaise? Your friend that came to talk? Was that the handsome darker-skinned chap with the black suit and green tie?" Georgia nodded while Draco attempted to put on a stunned expression, waiting for somebody to notice.

"What's wrong, Draco?" Andreas had stopped slugging back wine when he saw him fidgeting with his hands.

"Blaise is dating somebody."

Vivienne tactfully covered her mouth, while Georgia's demeanour dropped from coy to shameful immediately.  
"He _what?`_

"He's dating Hermione Granger, the girl in the green dress that was with him."  
Georgia scoffed disbelievingly.

"Are you kidding me?...Oh _bollocks, _you mean that drunk nice girl who my dad liked? _Fuck,_" she cursed, pushing her seat out dramatically to go on the patio and smoke a fag.

"I'll handle it, don't worry," Draco said to the couple, trying to hide his amusement at Hermione being a 'drunk nice girl.'

He gently pushed his way out the glass door and went to coax his riled kitten into the palm of his hand.

"Are you alright, then? I'm guessing he didn't tell you he was taken."

"No, no he didn't," she inhaled as she stared at the city in the sunset, leg shaking on her high heels.

"Did you ask?"

"_Yes!" _she whined, spinning around to face him. He lit up his own cigarette. "Of course I did. God, this is horrible. Draco," and she leaned in closer. "Draco, we _shagged. _I was drunk and I didn't use a condom. It was so stupid, I know. You must think so ill of me. I have that Depo-Provera shot, which is nearly 100% effective as birth control, but still. He likely didn't tell her. I mean obviously...he could have had sex with her since and – _oh my god."_

"It's not your fault," he soothed as she put her face in her hands. "He lied to you, and you asked him straight out. The only thing you can do is fix it."

Draco never would've imagined that this crazy girl would be so remorseful, and _human. _Fame, he supposed, really said nothing about temperament.

"Should I let _Blaise_ know that _I _know?"

"No," he shook his head. "Tell Hermione. If you give him the opportunity to man up, he won't. Trust me, there's a chance that he could persuade her to think you're lying, or jealous. Or else, try to block you from contacting her."

"But how am I supposed to get a hold of her?" she sulked, groaning at the prospect and collapsing against the railing.

"I have her phone number, her house one. I can give it you. Only, you have to promise that you won't disclose that you found this all out from me. Because she kind of hates me, and probably want to come slap me if I didn't tell her first."

"Odd request, but deal. Have to make this right at any cost. Wait, if she doesn't like you, why do you have her number? And when should I call her?"

"Because she's a lawyer, and I hired her to help me. And that's a good question."  
He had been in touch with Hermione a few times, the conversation over the phone just as awkward as when she visited him. They had agreed to meet up soon so he could see a physical preview of the document, as he still was struggling with computers and pdf files, and had yet to find a date.

"Ah, I guess you don't want her to drop out from helping you? I feel horrible." He let her make her own conclusions about why he wanted to hush it up.

"That's probably the best reaction, Georgia. At least you care, right? Look, I'm supposed to meet up with her soon, so I'll call you. I'll prod her about Blaise a bit to make sure she's okay and he hasn't been a total cad, yeah?"

"Yeah, that sound alright…wow, you're really great, eh?" She flitted her half-finished smoke onto the ground, stomping it with her heel. She moved in and gently leaned her head on his shoulder, and his only natural reaction was to pat her awkwardly.

He didn't have any intention of gauging Hermione's emotions, he actually intended to text Georgia when he was with her so he could see how she reacted, so he could plan accordingly what to do. He wasn't sure if Hermione would be a sobbing mess or a crouched tiger ready to chew Blaise's face off.

They walked back inside, Draco internally reminding himself to make sure that he called Hermione tomorrow morning. Unfortunately, it was the first _real_ day of work. A new chapter in his so-called life. Feeling unprepared, he put the negativity to rest for the time being.

The rest of the evening went fine, though Georgia was obviously gutted. Draco assured her it was alright, and hoped she would be more careful next time as she deserved better than scum like his enemy. He went home thanking his lucky stars that everything seemed to have fallen in place for him. He didn't need to use the stupid video, and everyone except for Blaise would come out unscathed, he hoped. He tried to ready himself for how he was going to keep his act up when shit went down in a few days.

Falling asleep on the couch after watching a Doctor Who rerun, his mind drifted to his conscious, and whether he had one.

Yes, he was a horrible person, but the satisfaction he was going to get was well worth it. In his mind, he was going to come out on top and everyone would get what they deserve, hell or not.  
The ends justify the means.


	7. Hook, Line, and Sinker

Chapter Seven: "Hook, Line and Sinker"

"How does this one look? _Hey__!" _  
Pansy snapped at Draco, who was lying backwards on a chaise lounge, head hanging off the end.

He was reading all the neglected messages on his phone. And really was getting bored as his female friend had inappropriately brought him along lingerie shopping. She had said she wanted an opinion on an outfit, as her and Sergei's three month anniversary was soon, but he thought it was a _dress, _not boudoir apparel.

Peeking up lazily, he saw that she had on a garter belt connected to a black basque fit with spikes on the bra and down the side. That detail had become her new obsession since his party. Matched with red pumps, she looked sexy as all hell, but Draco felt on the fence on whether he should say so or not. And he hoped to Merlin that Pansy wouldn't ever tell Sergei he was the one approving what his girlfriend should wear right before they fucked. (And if she _did_, that he wouldn't come to axe murder him.)  
This was too strange for real life.

"It matches your soul," he replied impassively, while firing back an e-mail to confirm an appointment the following week.

"Alluring and mysterious?" she asked with hopefulness Draco wanted to smirk at.

"Wicked and obnoxious."  
She emitted an annoyed little tick and stomped back into the dressing room.  
They were at a boutique in Leeds, Bordello; it was after sundown now. Pansy had requested to come past open hours for a private shopping experience, and with a bribery too good to ignore, the owner had agreed. The manager was now in her office, leaving the pair to their own devices until she could close shop.

"Well what do you suggest then, you idiot? You haven't been paying any attention to me," came muffled whines as Pansy wiggled out of her corset. That must have been her twentieth or so try, and she was getting exhausted and hot from the constant buckle-popping, lace-tying, and leg-bareing.

"That scarlet corset you tried on was probably the nicest thing so far. With pull-up tights. Light colours aren't as boner-inducing as rich darker ones. Plus you're really fair, so it looks better anyways."

She peeked her head out again, trying to gauge if he was serious or not. He was staring straight at her. Rolling her eyes, she yanked the curtain closed to finish her redressing.

"I was paying attention, love. You just don't have any faith in me."

"You've been on your phone the entire time," she hmmphed, coming back out in a sundress, Draco's suggestion in hand. "And obviously I do, or I wouldn't have invited you."

Clacking her way to the till, sweetly calling for the manager, Pansy made her purchase and then dragged her guest back onto the strip. Thrusting the carrier bags into his hands to light up.

"Let's go to Baby Jupiter, I hear it has an exceptional bar. You aren't too _busy _are you?"

With the morning spent dealing with the Greengrasses, followed by setting up all the intricate, asinine details with his new staff, he was too _tired._

"I am, actually. But I'll go_," _Draco uttered, pulling out the receipt, scoffing. "I know this might come off very hypocritical, but why spend nearly a thousand pounds on shit that will only make the person you bought it for want to tear it off after six seconds?"

"Because I can," Pansy blew smoke into his face, knocking him on the head with a fist.

"_Rude. _I'm not your damn caddy, by the way."

"You are tonight. Besides," she stepped aside, smiling while avoiding a playful swipe on the arm, "Sergei loves the slow tease. He'll appreciate the effort. He's going to come home to me, looking fabulous, with drinks and freshly washed sheets. Surely, I can expect prolonged foreplay in my future."

She then sighed in contentment, winking at him.

"And what about _his_ prolonged future?" Draco asked in response, grinning as she contorted her expression into a death-glare.

"I'm going to suck his cock _so _well he'll be incapacitated for a week, so don't you go trying to imply I'm selfish in the sack, because you have _no _idea."

"No, I _don't_."

"I'm fantastic, in case you were wondering. Don't be jealous now, I think you just need some encouragement. When's the last time you even had a nice time out with a pretty lass, anyways? Want me to set you up? It'd be nice if I could get some sex advice from a boy, but you have to actually be proficient in the act for it to be useful."  
He wasn't even certain anymore whether she intended to sound like a massive bitch or if it all came naturally.

"Don't worry, I think I can hold out a bit longer, Pans. Don't need to date someone just to justify banging them like you do. Besides, anyone you pick out for me will probably have the mug of a dead carcass and the personality to match."  
He laughed while she threw her silent hissy fit, defending her mates under her breath, when his mobile began to go off.

_I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction,  
Cause I try, and I try, and I try, and I try…_

"Shit, here."  
Fumbling through his pockets, piling the load onto Pansy for free hands, his stomach jolted slightly as he noticed who was calling.

"What in the hell kind of ringtone is _that_? Ever since you left your mum, you've been listening to such weird – " her voice died in her throat, eyes ablaze with sudden rage. "Wha- mmph."

Before there was time to explode, Draco put a finger to her lips, then brought it back to his, shushing her.

She stomped her foot, balled her fists, as he clicked the green button.  
"Draco Malfoy speaking," he drawled, drawing out the sound to rile up his friend.

He had no idea how he was going to get himself out of this situation, but staying calm surely was a pertinent factor, to show Pansy he had this all under control.

"_Hi, it's Hermione…Um," _she paused, sighing, causing an uncontrollable smirk to fall on Draco's face. He almost _felt_ her pouting. _"I've finished the draft like you wanted, and though you might think you are untouchable, I'd encourage you to consider finalizing it before you continue taking clients. I suggest going to a notary to have them bear witness and validate it legally, then posting it officially on your website. I know you have one, don't be surprised. Send copies to customers before they pay you so they can't make any disputes, as well."_

"Hello to you too, Granger. When did you want to meet up?"

A loud _argh _startled several pedestrians making their way down streets for dinner out.

"_Sorry? Are you outside? Sounds like there's sirens or something, can't hear you very well."_

Fighting back - with great difficulty - a hefty snort, Draco strode beside a dirty building in the corner, leaning against the fake brick.

"My apologies. Thank you for your suggestions, I only meant to ask when you wanted to get together to discuss this, and so I can pay you."

"_Merlin….I don't know. Don't care. I work every day, so do you. You probably have a more erratic schedule than me."_

_"_Always so difficult," he noted, not missing the tut of annoyance through the line. "When are you free this week? I should be fine for the next few days because it's all press and acquaintances. Just need your go ahead."

_"Look, give me a day that best works for you and I'll tell you if it's also in my favour. Tomorrow, Tuesdays, are the only time I can't. Worse comes to worst, you could come to the ministry on my lunch break, or are you too famous to eat now?"_

Chuckling, he fiddled with his zippo in his free hand, watching the flame go out again and again.  
"Lunch I usually spend with associates, not that you aren't, but they actually want something to do with me. Wednesday is the best day for me. Nothing going on in the evening. You?"

"_Of course it is," _with a tiny growl, Hermione returned with a frustrated attitude. "_I have a dinner date with Blaise on Wednesday. But if that's the only day in the next week you're free….just if we can meet before 7 that would be great. No offence, but I'd like to tie up this endeavour and lay it to rest."_

_Dinner with _that_?  
_Blood simmered through his veins, again feeling oddly guilty that the mere mention of them together had that affect.

"Certainly," he replied curtly, running down his options lightning fast before one flashed before him brilliantly. "So shall I pop by your flat then? Say 5:30? No need for you to leave, plenty of time to get ready for your nightly romp."

"_It's no trouble for me to visit you, honestly. I'd prefer it, actually." _  
She sounded panicky.  
Draco pondered if she had landed in the same boat as he had, hiding the fact that they had formed a partnership.

Inhaling a soft hiss, he put on an apologetic voice. "Oh, _well_, you see, I'll be busy right up until 5:30. I'm not even sure when exactly I'd get back."

This wasn't a lie.  
Tomorrow he had a photo shoot cum interview for _Witch Weekly, _the only magical magazine for all things trendy and celebrity. Everyone else seemed excited for him, but he didn't really give a newt's eyeball.

"It'll only take a few moments," he taunted. "Afraid of Potter and company finding out about us?"

"_No," _she spat. "_It's 45 Kilburn Road, flat 15. Don't be late."_

With that she hung up on him.  
Riling her up had become his new favourite vice, though he would never confirm it to himself by saying it aloud. Returning to his fretting ladyfriend, she was talking in hushed whispers to somebody on her own device, angrily, but far too whiny for it to be a worry to him on who she was calling.

"Are you quite finished moaning to Sergei? Shall we?"  
He held out his arm, but she snapped the phone shut with a hasty good bye and bellowed at him, smacking the offered limb instead.

"Why the _hell _are you talking to _Hermione Granger? And why do you have her number!?"_

"She's whipping up a contract for me, actually. That's it. So my clients can't sue me, cause lord knows that some of the vile richer cunts will be dissatisfied and unafraid to do so."  
Snatching the lighter from his hand, she starting smoking her third fag in ten minutes.

"But why _her?_ And why didn't you tell me? Surely Blaise is furious."

"Actually, I don't think Blaise knows, funnily enough. Think she felt too shameful to tell him. And _her _because I'm dealing with witches and muggles, and she has expertise of the laws in both areas. Knowing that you'd blow up at me and try to seriously maim me was why I didn't inform you, and with your spiteful history books you'd probably go running off to Zabini to tattle before I could've explained it."

"I would _not," _she huffed, averting her gaze as she trudged her way to their destination for a strong drink.

"You so would. Nott and I," he began, phrasing this in a way that wouldn't endanger him, "are finding small ways to piss the bugger off. Vivienne suggested I get a contract when we were dressing you up, which is how I got the idea in the first place. And using Granger because she is a lawyer, and because Blaise is like a rampant watchdog about her career, presented the perfect ruse."

"_Theo _wants to bother him_? _But he's such a kissass."

"Yeah well, let's just say Mr. Flawless Model flaunted his influence over Astoria, however real it is, and it ticked him off big time."

"God, nobody ever tells me anything," she frowned, twisting her face for a moment, puzzled. "I suppose I was too preoccupied that night for drama anyways….."

"It was a 'between the boys' deal. Bunch of peacocks displaying their feathers, if you will. Come on, Pansy, don't be so irate. Our lives are one big game, remember? Just because we're supposed to be adults doesn't mean we're any more mature, any less petty. Nott is in a tight spot working for the idiot, and though I loathe him, at least we have some common ground in our hatred. One-upping that moron by garnering some attention away from him was gratification long needed, and I don't want it to dry out so soon."  
Pleading with her, using his tried and true method of coy piqued lips and soft wide eyes, visibly her shoulders sunk, relenting.

"Well…_sigh_. He's going to kill you when he finds out…and I don't see why you have to actually make dates with her. But I guess I buy your dumb alibi. Whatever. I won't go snitching to Blaise, he's been an arse to me lately, and even if I hate that girl, boyfriends shouldn't dictate who you talk to…."

It never ceased to amaze Draco how one minute somebody could be acting so infantile, and in the next they were reasonable. His coaxing helped, but still, this was rare especially concerning a Parkinson.

"You must tell me what happens though, I assume you'll let Blaise know in one way or another about the events after you're finished eh?"

"Of course. And cross my heart, I won't leave anything out. Hopefully she'll take him down a peg once he overreacts."

Pansy furrowed her brow for a moment. It sounded almost as if he actually cared about what happened to Granger, that he'd hope she'd dump him.  
She shook her head, _what a silly idea, _as they arrived at their target.

Settling down in the far end, the smoking section, Draco ordered them whiskey and a margarita.

"So…how was Astoria anyways? First appointment and all. Did she co-operate with you?"  
Still suspicious, perhaps a tad green if she was honest, Pansy decided to leave him to his own devices. Getting mad at him was pointless if she wanted to keep track of his activity.

"Yeah, she was fine. Pleasant, even. Daphne though…was an _entirely _different matter," he confided, giving her a knowing look which caused a delicious grin on her face.

"_Oh, _do tell. She's got her knickers in a twist lately, Adrian got tired of her shit _real _quick. Honestly, that girl is only concerned with how many men she can attract. Think she's annoyed that her sister has managed to get somebody head over heels and she's always in between blokes."

With her concentration garnered, Draco felt himself relax again as he retold Pansy about all the whining and disagreement he'd had from Daphne, and then about the experience of dabbling in responsibility as a whole. Thinking back to the weekend, he resolved to settle her qualms even further.

"Oh by the way, I had dinner with Vivienne, and she was toiling with the possibility of having you walk the runway in the fall. She wanted to use that dress, and it was made for you, so," he shrugged.

"_Really?" _her whole body filled with delight, and she tried to mask some of her glee by looking down into the glass that was just served to her.

"Mmhm," he replied as he took a sip. "I mentioned that to old Daphers and she was positively livid."

_"Excellent."_  
With the signature smug expression, all was well.  
Draco listened to her prattling and stories for a few more hours until he had to leave.

Opting not to go to sleep once he was safe and sound at home, there was no point when you had to be up by 6 and it was 1, he went over his plan for when he got to Hermione's. Drinking copious amounts of coffee and tea, he then rehearsed potential answers to questions for his interview.

The last thing he wanted was to look _stupid._

{}

"There aren't many in the wizarding world who'd have the nerve to branch out into a business venture so _foreign. _So Draco, how did you come to decide that the fashion industry was the place for you and how are you feeling about the progress so far? I hear though the grapevine it's all going swimmingly."

Autumn Millstone was fidgeting in her seat, trying not to break eye contact with her guest while simultaneously avoiding a blush creeping up her neck. Mr. Malfoy had specifically requested her to do the piece, as he'd been 'extremely pleased' with her article concerning his soirée. That assignment had been a low-priority at the time, and she had only been here for four months which is why she got stuck with it. The paid stories always were covered by the rookies.  
Now that he was dubbed as an up-and-comer, and he was a _Malfoy, ie, _extremely rich and known for being sly, this was a big deal. Needless to say, she was under immense stress.

"Well Autumn," Draco cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his armchair. "My close friend Pansy -who was wearing that pink dress everyone seems to be asking me about at my party – has always told me I know what looks best on her. The information that I helped pick out her outfits slipped out one day in front of an audience, and one of my mates joked, rather nastily I should say, that I should consider doing it for a living. I wasn't doing anything worthwhile at the time, it sort of stuck in my head as a possibility after that. Without my mother I surely couldn't have done it at all, she got me in contact with all those beautiful people. Rock stars influence better than politicians, honestly."  
Autumn let our a small genuine titter, covering her mouth quickly.  
"The rest is history I guess," Draco finished, grinning that he could affect his interviewer in such a way. "And yes, it's going alright thus far, I've gotten an overwhelming response."

He flashed her a dazzling smile that left a lump in her throat.

"A-and, anybody in those responses worth mentioning?"

"Ha, no, not yet," he chuckled, fingering his chin and swinging his foot over his crossed leg. All of this was very calculated movement, calculated speech in an attempt to look candid. By the look of his company, it was convincing. "Mostly acquaintances, muggle women, and schoolmates."

"Any thoughts of collaborating with any designers then? Everyone in the office was raving about that Vivienne Westwood piece, by the way. _Ahem, _If I'm correct, there are many muggle stylists who have celebrity clients and good connections with the best of the best."

"You _are _correct, and I must confess that isn't really my cup of tea. Every person is different, so I don't imagine that trying to force them with affiliates they may not like will help them be individual. That's the aim, right? Vivienne has been a real dear, though, if you were wondering, and I wouldn't hesitate to work with her again."

The conversation went on smoothly enough, Draco had prepared himself (and guessed correctly) for most of the things fired at him.

"Well, you seem so _busy, _I know we all wish you luck in your endeavours. I don't want to keep you any longer because of the photo shoot," Autumn giggled anxiously, "just one last question though?"

"Certainly."

"With the busy schedule you have, I'm sure _Witch Weekly _readers are dying to know if you have any spare time for dating? There was no belle of the ball hanging off your arm last time I saw you. Or perhaps you do have a lucky, understanding woman in your life," she asked, staring at him meaningfully, "and she was unable to attend."

Struggling back laughter, he calmed his face by sipping water.  
"Afraid not. It's not really on my to-do list at the moment. Besides, I've always been a bit of an underachiever when it came to that stuff," he winked. "There's somewhere I have to be soon, unfortunately. It was nice meeting you again, sorry if the first encounter wasn't very pleasant, I was a bit distracted."

He stood up to shake her hand and relished in her flustered response as he was directed to the next room over for some tedious posing.

Matching the disposition of Autumn, Hermione was spilling her guts and woes to Ginny, a day too late in her apartment.

"_You WHAT!?"_

"I _know_, okay, it was so stupid. I don't even know what possessed me to consider helping him," Hermione moaned, sprawling on her bed as she dumped her briefcase onto the floor.

_"God, sometimes I wish you were meaner. I'm going to let myself believe it was the paycheck that influenced your decision. You know he only was nice enough to keep your wand so you'd feel somewhat obligated to return a favour."_

_"_Shush, I know, _trust me_. It was just so _weird. _He was being agreeable, frustratingly so, and I guess I figured it wouldn't be so bad because I didn't have to spend a lot of time with him."

"Does Blaise know? I get the feeling he'd be none too pleased about this arrangement."

"_No," _Hermione grumbled, twisting the cord of the phone, getting a little riled as Ginny was well aware of the past week's events.

Blaise had been a bit too distant, in his demeanour and letters. They hadn't seen each other at all. She wondered if it was something she'd done, but hoped to fix whatever it was tonight.

"I haven't had the chance seeing as he is 'too busy'."  
There was static as she heard her roommate contemplate on keeping her words to herself.

"_Well make certain that you keep yourself guarded."_

"_Obviously_," Hermione whined. "Ugh, I don't want to be dressed up when he gets here. He'll probably think it's all for his expense."

_"Ew, he's coming to the house?" _she groaned._ "Any remarks about the size, and I swear…..gah. You better bleach it when he leaves, he'll probably make the plants wilt just by standing in the living room."_

_"Ginny_," she chuckled, unable to hide her amusement. "Is there seriously no way you can come home at all? I only agreed because I didn't want to run late for my date. If you were here, he'd feel more inclined to leave."

"_Hell no am I going there, I'd probably smack him. I'm meeting Ron and Lavender for a movie, if it's any indication on how much I don't want to stand ferret-boys presence. You could always ask Harry."_

_"Ha! _He'd be worse than you, and I'm sure I'll get an earful once I tell him._"_

"_True_," Ginny tittered. "_Well, guess I'll leave you to it. When is he coming over?_"

"5:30, he said. I just got home so I should go get ready. If I don't call, I'm probably dead."

_"Good luck."_

Hermione couldn't unwind, even after a shower, even after she managed to make her face flawless with makeup, and even after she repeated in her head that tonight would end with love-making.

Hair straightened and shoes picked out, she was fingering the hem of her red zippered mini-dress, deliberating on its shortness, when she noticed the time. She flung her sheer tights at the clock, nostrils starting to flare.

Snatching her phone from her purse, she dialed the desired number and tapped her foot impatiently. It went to voicemail.  
But she didn't leave a message.

Instead, she smacked the readied folder containing the contract over her palms, then threw it on her sheets.

Sliding her pantyhose on, she marched to the sofa and flicked on the telly. Even the normal trash shows she loved like Jeremy Kyle, yelling that some undeserving sod was indeed the father of a child, couldn't bring her any sort of distraction.

Then the bright, annoying tinkle of her mobile went off.  
"You're cutting it _real _close, Malfoy. 6:15 and you're still not here? _Really? _I'm leaving when Blaise gets here, with or without you, if we're in the middle of it all or not. And right now I'm pretty damn – "

"_Fuck, Hermione. I'm so sorry," _he interrupted, convincingly apologetic, but it didn't sway her.

"_Sorry_? Yeah, right. If you tell me a time, I expect punctuality."

"_I_ know_, they took far longer than expected."_

_"They?"_

_"Yes, I'm at _Witch Weekly's _HQ for an interview. They requested I be photographed and I'm not a model, dammit. That's for your stupid boyfriend to do."_

_"_Just get here," she bit, refusing to let her mind wander and become entertained at the idea of Draco doing ridiculous poses. And ignoring his jab at Blaise.

To his credit, the buzzer was sounded a mere five minutes later.  
Opening the door to him smiling pleasantly, she grimaced in response.

"You look nice," he noted, giving her the onceover.  
The compliment rubbed off her, no affect whatsoever.

"You say that as if I'm hideous the rest of the time."  
She removed herself from the doorway, striding to the couch and pointing out a spot for him as he chuckled. He was wearing a tailored green and blue plaid suit, no tie, the pants rolled up to fit into boots.  
Again, she was surprised that he'd be wearing such fashionable muggle clothing in public, to an interview no less, but disregarded it as she wanted to get this case closed ASAP.

Fetching the document from off her mattress, she didn't catch her visitor's gaze glued to her shapely backside.

Remembering why he had campaigned to be here, his only chance now, Draco discreetly fired off a single text message he'd already prepared: "_Alright to go for it."_

Eyes were fixed to hers when she returned.  
"Here you go, I revised it about three hundred times, so if it's not good enough, I'm not the one for the job," she muttered, opting to stand.  
Leaning back in his seat, he opened the file and engrossed himself what she'd written.

Hermione was startled that he was so absorbed in it, still skeptical about his intentions of hiring her.  
Suddenly the annoying ring went off again, this time her home line.

Exhaling for the sake of her sanity, she went over to the kitchen.  
_Blocked Number.  
_"Hermione Granger speaking, may I ask who's calling?"_  
_

Draco snickered at her sugary tone, causing Hermione to saunter away from his immediate company to the front closet.

The points that his hired help had made were well-worded, well-reasoned and impressive. But Draco couldn't resist breaking his focus to watch the fruits of his labour all unfold.

"_Georgia May?"  
_Hermione felt foolish that she was overwhelmingly giddy _before_ confusion washed over her.

_"Yes, hi, how are you? We met at Draco's party if you remember, only momentarily though ha ha_."  
She was very nervous for some reason, and Hermione, though usually quite perceptive, could not come up with any plausible reason for Georgia contacting her.

"I do. I'm alright, how about you?"

That Mick Jagger wanted to go out on a date lingered delusionally for a moment in her mind; what she had to say next made her blood freeze.

"_Not so good, I'm afraid. The reason I'm calling Hermione, is about your boyfriend, Blaise."_

A buzzing sound filled her ears, hesitating to reply.

"W-what about him?"

She heard the girl inhale a cigarette on the other end, breathing deep in dread.  
"_There's no easy way to say this, I'm afraid….but at the party_….fuck_. AtthepartyIwaspissdrunkandhadsexwithhim_."

"Excuse me, _what?"  
_She couldn't have heard her correctly. Surely she didn't say what her brain registered.

"_God, I'm so sorry. I – well I hooked up with him, you see. During my dad's set. I had no idea you were dating him, and afterwards...He promised to call, see, and he didn't," _she jabbed bitterly._ "I called to ask for his contact info, and obviously, they wanted the reason for it. Told me about you then, how he was _not_ single, and I took it upon myself to find your number in a directory. I just felt obligated to tell you."_

Hermione's heart was going at two times the normal rate, plummeting itself into her stomach. Mouth too dry to speak.

"_Look,_ _if you hate me I understand. And I understand if you're really upset. But he _told _me he wasn't dating anybody, and if he'll do it once, he'll do it again. You needed to know. You need to dump the bastard. I'm sorry the news didn't come sooner, but I only just figured it out."_

The immediate sadness she was feeling was replaced quite quickly with a slow burn creeping up her throat as the meaning behind Blaise's actions this week became painfully clear.  
Insult only added to injury that the one person who she didn't listen to, who was _right,_ was sitting not five metres away.

"_Hermione? Are you there?"_

"Yes. So you…went all the way?" she asked quietly, peeking at her intruder to see if he was watching, wanting very much to be alone.

"_Unfortunately_ _yes. We, erm, didn't use a condom. I'm clean, I got tested right away. Don't know your relationship details, but I suggest you go out too," _Georgia told her earnestly, and Hermione, though livid, did notice how disgusted this stranger sounded about her own actions.

_"Luckily_ I haven't seen him all week, guess I know why," she laughed mirthlessly.

"_This is terrible._ _I'm so sorry…if there's anything I can do…"_

_"_It's not your fault, if anything you saved me from getting too attached to a piece of scum. Thanks for calling."

"_Please, it is partly. I'm glad you believe me, was worried you wouldn't. You deserve better than him. I guess it's no consolation, and it's more to selfishly ease my own conscience but want to go out for dinner?"_

_"Dinner?"_

_"Or drink til we're numb and forget about him? I insist on something. Maybe I can get my dad to come out . As I recall you like his work."_

"Tempting as that is, I can't think straight right now. I'll have to get back to you about it," Hermione responded, easing slightly at the fact that Georgia was so adamant on apologizing.  
And she wasn't trying to soothe her guilt, she was actually thankful. It could've been a year of Blaise cheating before she'd caught wind, Georgia could've easily said nothing.

"_Alright, I have your number. I'll call you on the weekend? Leave you a message if you're away."_

_"_Okay…"  
This was too much to process right now.  
"Sorry, I don't know what to say."

"_Me neither. What a douche!" _Georgia shouted angrily._ "Go use your anger and chew him out, seriously. He doesn't know I know he lied, he would deny it if I gave him the opportunity to own up, surely. Break ups suck, but maybe you can drown your sorrow in ice cream, maybe hatefuck the next dishy bloke you see."  
_

"Yeah, not likely. We're supposed to go out right now. Not anymore, not ever."  
_  
_Her appetite was completely gone. Malfoy was the only bloke in the vicinity, and Hermione was getting increasingly, and unfairly, annoyed that he turned out to be correct about Blaise all along. She knew that her hatred towards him was irrational, because he'd been nothing but courteous. She needed him to leave.

"_Damn, bad timing. Well I'll leave you to it. I'm really sorry, again…"_

"I accept your apology. Talk later."

Hanging up, the click of the receiver flicked her back into the present, words repeating and echoing through her mind.

"Trouble in paradise, Granger?"  
Hermione treaded gracelessly to her room, kicking off her shoes in the process, glaring only once at Draco before slamming the door shut.

Draco hadn't heard the whole discussion, but he got the gist of it. His first instinct on how she'd take the news was correct; she was as angrier than a thousand blasts of fiendfyre. The frown alone on her face would've killed if looks could.

Though he wouldn't dare in the state she was in, as harsh words flew about behind a flimsy wall, Blaise getting reamed via mobile, he so desired to press his ear to it. Thoroughly enjoying some of her vulgar thrashings.

Gems such as "_Vile, arrogant prick," _and "_cheating_,_ lying scumbag."_

A final, "_NEVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN!", _was the last sentence thrown about, and he didn't even pretend to be paying attention to the contract when she returned to his sitting space.

"Are you alright?"  
Though highly tickled by her colourful language and the fact that Blaise got a scolding, he was a tad concerned she'd fly off the handle and do something irrational.

"_Yes, I'm just _peachy," she lashed at him. "Now is that good enough for you, or not? Because right now I'd appreciate being solitary."

_"Why? _What did Blaise do?" he asked, poor choice of words on purpose.

"_Ugh, _don't you worry about it. Answer my question!" she screeched, picking up a pencil off the coffee table and chucking it at him.

"_Fuck, _calm down!" he shouted, the lead nicking his ear.

While rubbing it better, she was seething, and didn't apologize.  
He'd never seen her this ticked, and he'd been the cause of her anguish plenty of times before.

"It's great, Granger, alright? Now please, are you going to have a meltdown if I leave? Want me to call an ambulance, maybe the fire station?"

"Shut _up, _you don't care about me at all, you just want to know why I'm upset!"

"_Come on," _he implored her, folding his arms and staring at her with such intensity she actually stopped shaking.

"Your little buddy Blaise decided that I'm only of use for bettering his reputation, and not good enough to satisfy his overworked _cock," _she spit, surprising him with her crass. "He cheated on me with Georgia May. At least _she_ had the decency to tell me about it. So I guess that means you were right, and I'm wrong about that _arse_. It was all a calculated ruse, like you said. Now before you laugh it up, throw your victory celebration, I suggest you leave. Because I swear to Merlin if I catch you smirking in front of me, I will rip your lips right off your – "

_Knock knock._

Both heads whipped to the source of the noise, and despite the fact they'd been tussling, they both shared a worried glance.

"_Hermione, it's me. Please let me in, it's not true!"_

Despite being frightened, maybe even a deep-seated part of her complacent at his urgent appearance, she wasn't buying it. She had that intuitive feeling that something was off for the past while, and tonight proved it wasn't her that was the problem.

They stayed shock still for a few minutes of constant steady door-pounding.  
Draco was actually at a loss on what to do, he hadn't in a million years considered that Blaise would chase after her, thought his pride would stop him.

"_Hermione, I know you're in there. Come on, why trust a whoreish girl you've barely even met?"_

Finally, with that comment, she broke.  
She moved to the door, keeping the chain on it, and cracked it open a sliver. Just in the nick of time, Draco slithered backwards to avoid being seen.

"Because that _whore _took the time to seek me out! Why would she sabotage _you_? Are you that fucking full of yourself that you think she'd want to break us up to get back in your pants?"  
Unbeknownst to the quarrelers, Draco was positively glowing with glee, though scared shitless at the fact that she might go in on him next.  
"Why should I believe a word you say? You've ignored me all week, and something was fishy, something was up. I didn't see you during that whole performance by Mick Jagger at the party. Why couldn't you have just sat with me, eh? I'm not some subordinate little princess that serves to hang off your arm and keep my mouth shut. Quite honestly, I always feel like I have to watch my step when I'm around you. I don't feel comfortable, I don't like being told what to wear or do, and you've ruined it anyways by being a slag. You don't get a second chance. Now _leave!"_

Huffing, another slam resonating through the flat, she marched to her bed from her speech.

"I'm _not _leaving," came the response. It was much more unrepentant than before. "_How dare you talk to me like that? You think_ you're _too good for _me?_ It's not true anyways, and you better not go spreading it around!"_

"_Just go away," _Hermione murmured, lowering her head in her hands, lowering her body onto the comforter.

Draco, at this turn of events and emotions, had no ideas on what actions to take. Now the bloody fool was trying to save some kind of ego he thought he still had, thinking in his arrogant head that Hermione might forgive his mistake when he was acting so rash.

Witty in times of desperation, Draco recognized _help _is what they needed. With great effrontery, he lightly stepped over to where she was sitting, and pushed the door gently closed.

Snapping back up, twisting her face with rage and about to question his audacity, he put one finger up, gesturing for her to be quiet as he pulled out his phone. Seriously hoping after tonight he wouldn't have to use or see one for a decade. Raising his brows, he wanted to convince her he was on her side in one last attempt at solidarity.

She was too drained to even muster the strength to tell him off.

The dial went on for a moment, then: "_Hello?"_

"Hey Nott, where are you right now?"

Hermione put her hands up in hindrance, quizzical and annoyed that Draco was being useless when he had the nerve to be here, in her _room_. Only, he _wasn't_ being useless.

"_Uh, at the club, why?"_

"Are there many others in the vicinity?"

"_Yeah, quite a few, is something bad happening on your end?"_

_"_Something very, _interesting, _has just transpired with your old pal Zabini. And I need you to try and _calm_ him for me, because he's quite upset. Are you able to try and rouse him to come join you? Call him? You're the man for the job, he doesn't hate you."

Draco could practically hear the satisfied elation ooze through the line.  
"Ooh_, I think that can be arranged_."

The Malfoy heir gave Hermione a thumbs up as she gaped at him in bewilderment.

"_Pray tell, if you can, is it juicy?"_

"Oh, friend, you're going to be gobsmacked, trust me."

"_Excellent, you coming to spill the details?"_

_"_Yes, I'll meet you in thirty. When he comes, just tell him you already invited me as well if he asks, yeah?"

"_Ten-four."_

And then they waited.  
Draco re-entered the main area, and Hermione halted the onslaught of tears she felt brimming out of morbid curiosity.

After a few minutes, they heard soft mumbling in the hall, and then footsteps walking away: Draco had saved the day.

Picking up what he came for, he made his way to the front, waiting to see if Hermione would say anything before he took his leave.

"_Thanks," _she uttered, looking at the ground and self-consciously scraping one shoulder with her nails.

"Anytime, Granger," he saluted her. "He got what was coming to him. And now you know to listen to me."

Glimpsing his grin, everything rattling around in her thoughts made no sense. It didn't match previous record. Draco Malfoy was the unlikely hero, Blaise was dirt, and she actually couldn't decipher whether she was pissed off, relieved, or upset.  
Maybe all three.

"Shall I deliver your check to your office?"

"Y-yeah, thanks," she sighed, rubbing her temple wearily.

"Catch ya later, Hermione. Don't fret too much, you deserve better."  
Before she could reply, he was gone.

Opening up the fridge, she grabbed a beer, brought it to her room and got completely naked.  
She laid back, resting against the pillows, and drank it while touching herself below the waist.

She was too confused and frustrated to waste her sadness on somebody who didn't deserve it. She wouldn't cry it out for Blaise; he was handsome and smart, a great shag, and he made her feel pretty, but what did they have in common?

_Absolutely nothing, _she thought, shutting the images out and replacing them with somebody more tantalizing.  
Tonight she was getting off, with or without a date to help it along. Single again, she was at least always self-reliant.

Miles away, enjoying a well-deserved blunt, Draco was high as a kite with Adrian and Theo, the euphoria of a scheme accomplished unable to damper him regardless of who showed up.

Blaise had arrived, and had already gulped several rum and cokes. Putting on a façade of contentment, he was telling them that Hermione and he had a 'spat', that he was 'fine'. Draco and Nott knew better, sharing secret smiles and snorts of derision at every false word he said. Cherishing the slight paranoia that crossed his face every time they did.

Phase one complete, Draco observed the starry sky, ready for the next day of work he had lined up for him, planning the next sabotage in his influenced state.


	8. The Right & Wrong Decision

Chapter Eight: "The Right & Wrong Decision"

"Clean."

She repeated the word to herself as she read it on the paper, when Ginny hugged her from behind. Sheepishly, she folded it up, it must've been the fiftieth time she'd looked at it today, and she was delivered the results only the day before.

"Would you put that down? You're _fine_, I knew you would be. Even if he's _vile, _he would be far more embarrassed than you could ever be if he wasn't all clear and you found out about it. And probably knew I'd spread it round he was a slag out of spite."

"Yeah well, everyone knows about his idiocy now regardless_,"_ Hermione laughed bitterly.  
Resting on the coffee table next to her clinic results was the gossip column from _The Daily Prophet. _A photo of Blaise walking out from his Oxford Street office was printed on the left, and then, one of Hermione and Ginny arm in arm on the right. As if they were secure in their solidarity.

"_God, _I'm sorry, alright," Ginny groaned, slumping onto their leather couch next to her flatmate. "They were bloody harassing me. As well as Harry, as well as Ron."

Several reporters, after somehow finding out that she dropped Blaise like spilled hot coffee, were hounding everyone related to the couple about the reasons why that was. It was two nights ago when Ginny had been walking back from the corner store for an ice cream run, seriously moody from bad cramps, that she finally snapped.

"_Hermione dumped that bastard because he cheated on her! Now get the hell out of my way!"_

Harry had found it quite funny that they printed it word for word, Ginny did too if she was honest. But Hermione was pissed that she was in the papers at all, and now they had decided to trail her more for answers on who it was he'd banged.

"You think that anyone's going to find out it was that girl, what's her name, Georgia May?" Ron asked, coming over and squatting onto the floor.  
The boys were here. They were all going out for drinks because it was Friday, and Ron's first weekend off in months.

"Unless Draco tells them, in which case I may murder him. He must know that. She was very nice to tell me about it, wasn't she?"

"Don't call him by his first name, doesn't deserve it, does he?" Harry commented, plopping down on the armchair. "I suppose since you have no qualms being business partners with him though, you don't care."

Rolling her eyes, she ignored him. "_Georgia May, _you were right Ron, is the one who doesn't deserve anything. She'll be slandered if they find out, when it was Blaise that lied to her. Even if it's just in the wizard world, and she would never be the wiser, I don't care."

"Well, you shouldn't have exploded when you heard the news, now that info is at his disposal." Ginny stood up again to turn off the telly and nudged him with her elbow, hard. "_Hey_! Alright, alright, sorry Hermione. I hate him, can't help the anger. Did he pay you by the way?"

Hermione refrained from telling her friend that Malfoy had sat on that very same seat barely a week ago, if he was going to be stroppy. She hadn't disinfected it yet.

"Yeah well, what would _you _do if Ginny cheated? Probably go on a hunting mission for the bloke…but anyway, I was mad. I was mad because _Malfoy_ was right. He predicted that Blaise would be a slime-ball and he was sat there while it was confirmed for me. _Ugh. _And yes, yes he did."

She'd bought a bunch of brand new clothes with the money. When she first received the cheque, she almost fainted. He _certainly_ overpaid her. And she had the hunch that he'd done it on purpose, just so she would mention it. It would've been rude to send it back, and it would make her have to contact him again, so she scribbled a quick thanks and sent if off to the ministry mail room. And that was that.

"Good. Let's drop this, surely you're tired of it. We can go to a _terribly plebeian_ bar," Ron drawled in a great impression of Lucius Malfoy, "where no Slytherins would step foot. Drink some stout, maybe some shots." He finished munching on the roast Hermione had made, smiling at the laughs he'd generated.

"Sounds good," Hermione giggled.  
Eager to leave, she was hoping for some unadulterated fun tonight. Painting on some makeup and shimmying into what Ginny had dubbed her 'hot girl disguise', she dreamed of something exciting.  
A few days ago she'd been mulling over her romances against her better judgement. The fact that the only good one was ended because of conflicting schedules and the rest were duds left a sour taste in her mouth. Viktor had a serious girlfriend now, and everyone else was obviously not the best fit for her.

Now she felt seriously inadequate again. Somebody so well-known had deemed her worthy of dating for the sole reason she was friends with Harry (and a small part of her stressing it might be her intelligence and job success) ; it was was disgusting. That he'd cheated on her made it worse, as she'd always felt insecure of her looks, and in her opinion, would never come close to resembling the likes of Georgia May. It was a hefty slap in the face.

"Alright ready to go yet, Ron? Going to get third helpings as well?" Ginny rolled her eyes, raring to get out of the stuffy building as well.

"Yup," he replied, mouth muffled with potatoes. "Lesss go!"

Gathering up the dishes, the girls flung them in the sink and rinsed them, too anxious to leave. Stepping into their heels they practically pushed their way out.

"Where to?" Hermione inquired as they got on the elevator, she was always too busy to know about hotspots.

"Wherever the wind takes us," Harry replied breezily, earning a smack on the chest from his fiancee. They all laughed their way onto the street, giddy from the anticipation of a much needed night out.

Draco was sitting on his bed, tapping his feet, giddy as well. Yet he was wanting to sleep instead of go out or consume alcohol, a rare occurrence that surprised even himself. It was only half nine, and he was exhausted while restless at the same time. Sober and completely bored.

To be fair, he'd had several _interesting _phone calls in the past few hours, and now all the un-pleasantries he'd exchanged were running through his head.  
Pansy was convinced he knew about Blaise cheating before Hermione had, and he couldn't explain himself in any way that would seem aloof enough to make her believe any different.  
Blaise was convinced that Draco knew, that he was somehow involved in the relationships demise, and was now sending threats through text.  
And Theo was convinced Draco knew, and wouldn't stop asking him if he did.

The relish he felt knowing Blaise had gotten what he deserved was fast becoming ruined being cornered like a naughty child who stole some cookies for the jar. Buzzing in his pocket, he fumbled to grab his phone. Only to chuck it against the dresser when he saw the word 'Parkinson'.

On the hardwood, the noises and movement were even more irritating, and they didn't end. Sighing, he got up reluctantly to snatch it off the floor.

"Yes?" he answered moodily, falling back on his mattress with his legs still hung off the edge.

"Why do you keep ignoring me? Just tell me what happened."  
She was livid, he could tell by the way her tone was sickly sweet.

"For the last time, Pansy - would you leave it alone?" he said calmly. "Nothing happened."

"No, I won't. And yes it did! You posted your contract on your website, and it gives credit to Granger. We both know you did it so Blaise would see it. Admit it, you got wind about Blaise being a scumbag, or saw it, or _something_. And wanted to throw in his face that she let you hire her."

"Darling, I put up my contract after they broke up. I'm going to tell you I didn't know anything and you will pester me again telling me I did," he stated, feigning indifference.

"Because I know you did!" she steamed, trying not to raise her voice. "It's driving me crazy! You keep dodging the questions. "

"You think I'd not have spread it round then, or used it as blackmail had I known?"

"I've considered that, but Draco, you went to Granger's house, didn't you? The night before the news story. How did the papers know they were split anyways? You must have told them; it happened when you were there."

"Pansy," he laughed, disbelief filling him at how perceptive she was. "You're ridiculous."

"No, I'm right. I bet you know who he cheated with."

"I'm going to bed, Pans. If you want to hang out, text me. I'm not answering any more calls if you're just going to hound me. Bye."

"Draco Malfoy, don't you _dare_ ha-"

He clicked off, noticing a crack on the back of his cell, shrugging before tossing it on his lap.

It kept on vibrating, and he felt an odd jolt in his lower body after a short time.

"_Seriously?_ Great, now even a bloody _phone_ can turn me on."  
Exhaling in exasperation, he gave in to temptation. Unzipping his pants, he wiggled them to his knees, started thumbing below his waist.

Now a daily routine, he considered perhaps his constant frustration and jitters were from needing to get thoroughly shagged, and wondered who exactly he could seek out to alleviate them. Because desperation was the station he was at, and he'd do something stupid soon if it wasn't fixed.

Finishing in a few fast minutes, he ended up only slightly relieved. Grabbing a tissue, he felt reminiscent of being 15 again. Awkward and unappealing to have to resort to this all the time.

"I need to get the hell out of here."

_Somewhere in London…_

"So where's Lavender tonight?"  
Hermione had wanted to ask that question since he stepped into her flat 3 hours ago, but was just intoxicated enough to do so now.

She'd expected her to be trailing him, especially on his one day off. It was almost as if they were two third wheels tonight, Ginny was all over Harry since the start of the evening.

Luckily Hermione was able to enjoy a few g&t's and their conversation wasn't that cumbersome so far having being left alone together. Curiosity was getting the better of her now and she had to blurt out about old Lav's absence.

The bar they'd chosen was called the Good Ship, just down the block from the boys apartment. Very famous, a detail unbeknownst to them when they got there, the place was crowded. A popular venue for indie bands that all began with 'The', tonight the hefty cover charge was for The Wombats.

Ginny really liked them so she had fed Harry enough rum and cokes to get him to go dance. The noise was enough to make the small spot personal, and the crowd was convened in front of the stage. She and Ron were sitting up a staircase and onto the second floor that overlooked the platform. Hermione wasn't confident enough yet from her cocktails to get up and make a fool of herself down below.

"Didn't want to come," Ron replied after a long pause, looking at the table and passing his pint glass between his hands.

"_Oh_?" she continued tentatively, his face suddenly blue.

"We're on a 'break'," he huffed. "Hasn't been working out. She's saying that we don't spend enough time together. And it's not my fault! I feel terrible but I don't willingly work 60 hour weeks. I only have a bit longer to go til my internship is over, don't I? No idea where she even is either, and she refused to come out when we can actually go home and enjoy the morning after. _Girls."_

Sympathy twisted in Hermione's stomach for him. He really _did_ love her, they had dated for a long time, she often forgot that fact because she rarely saw him nor her nowadays.  
"I'm sorry to hear that. This might sound I dunno, rude," she began, unable to stop herself, "but she seems the type that is really dependent for support when in a relationship."

"Well, er, yeah she is," he agreed uneasily.

"God, sorry. That was really bitchy…it's not a bad thing, it's quite romantic really. Some people can't handle when their partner has a busy schedule," she saved herself, touching his arm with her hand, head light and dizzy. "It's hard."

"No, it's fine. You're right anyways, it's nice a lot of the time but it's gotten to the point where she's so clingy. You don't seem like you'd get like that, eh? That's why it's reprehensible to you."  
She was about to lay on him when she noticed he was smiling.

"What're you so happy about? Think it's funny I'm not loving enough or something?" she teased, leaning across the tiny table to swipe at his face.

He ducked while chuckling and grabbed her arm.  
"Not at all, I was just thinking how wonderful it is that you understand very well that it takes commitment to reach your goals. Don't think you'd ever pester me about working."

When he didn't let her go and slid his fingers gently down to hers, holding them, a small part of her was screaming to let go. However, the lingering clear mind she usually had was all but gone.

Looking meaningfully into her eyes, she felt her heart flutter unwillingly. It was too soon for this.  
"I'll get the next round, yeah? 'Nother gin and tonic?"

"How sweet you are. Yes, please."  
Grinning like an idiot when he left, her eyes grew wide a moment later and she shook her head, scolding herself.  
_Why are you flirting? He has a girlfriend! Stop, it, stop it, stop it. What are you thinking?_

She was thinking she was horny.  
She was thinking that she was tired of being serious all the time, of being a prude.  
She was drunk.

_They're on a break, _the devil on her shoulder urged. _And he's wanted to get with you forever. Are you going to punish him and stay away because he isn't as sensible as you? Just because he dated somebody else first? He likes you, you like him. He's nice, caring, and thinks you're attractive. Isn't that what _you've_ always wanted?_

"Cheers!"  
Sliding a tall glass in front of her, he sat back down, clinking his beer against it before chugging half of his.

A foam moustache the residue of his hastiness, Hermione tittered at him. _"_Oh Ron, I never knew you could pull off facial hair so well."

Turning scarlet up to his ears, he wiped his face and mimed gulping down her drink. She took a hearty sip_, _grimacing at the bitterness immediately.

"_Bleh. _Ron, thank you, but oh my goodness this is _strong."_

"It's a double shot– they call it _Texas-style_!" he exclaimed in a southern twang, shooting a finger-gun at her and emitting a 'pow' bullet sound.

Laughing uncontrollably at his antics, Hermione gave in. Gave in to her already waning inhibitions so she didn't even think about them. Or the consequences.

"You are ridiculous."

"And you're a _wuss," _he stuck out his tongue at her, finishing off his lager. "I need another one already, merlin. These muggle drinks, I tell you."

She paused before she could inform him that wizarding ones could be much worse, she'd avoided talking about the party she attended, or Blaise and the Slytherins in general.  
He returned to the bar again, and came back with a second drink for both of them. Well, second is a relative term. She'd already downed 2, and Ron 5 of his favourite poison.

"_Ronald Weasley_, are you trying to get me drunk?" she inquired raising an eyebrow before falling into a fit of giggles at his concerned expression.

"Just want to make sure milady is properly looked after in the alcohol department," he said with a wicked air.

"Well thank you kind sir," she hiccupped, causing him to smile with his teeth for a split second before glancing downwards. He was self-conscious of himself, and when he let it show it was one of Hermione's favourite quirks of his.

They chatted for a few more minutes, mostly babble about the music, some of the more daring patrons who were dancing, and then somehow it came back to the last topic she wanted to discuss.

"So Hermione…are you alright? I mean –" he paused noticing her snap to attention, going rigid. "It's just that what that dragon dung did to you must've hurt. Being a cheating slag and all. And I know I like, you know, kinda stayed away from you for a bit, it's just cuz I can't stand him or the people he associates with."  
Ron was definitely falling off the deep end, but it didn't help matters that he was endearing, and possibly more adorable in this state.

"It's fine Ron. And _I'm_ fine. Honestly, I'm relieved. His circle of friends hated me, probably always would. I felt under scrutiny 24/7 and it would've driven me crazy after a few months. It was only 4 weeks too, I wasn't attached. I know exactly what happened and who was involved, I can move on."  
She only meant to say she was alright, but the story and her feelings bled from her lips before she was able to seal them shut.

"That's good to hear. I was worried, Harry told me what happened, wanted to go on a manhunt to be honest," he admitted, looking a bit embarrassed after a second thought. "You're still on the first one? Drink woman!"

He tried to cover up with teasing, but Hermione wasn't fooled. She felt touched, yet didn't mention it further, simpering at him before emptying the glass.

"It's unnecessary for you to do that on my behalf, though I appreciate it Ron," she explained softly. Skimming her bare foot against his knee, shoes too tight, she could see from his sudden stillness he was calculating on how to react.

And with what he decided to say next, she wasn't sure if she was pleased or not.

"You deserve a lot better than him. Ginny said you always acted like you were inadequate or something when you talked about him."

"I'm like that regardless of who I'm with though, it's just more pronounced when I'm dating," she declared, feeling both flattered and a bit pissy he knew about her self-doubt.

"But you don't need to be, Hermione," he explained, throwing his hands up. "You're the best in the room half the time. You're smart, you're kind, and you're beautiful. What else does a bloke need?" he asked, popping some peanuts from the bar in his mouth. "And just because maybe Zabini was 'hot and rich' too, and good at deductive reasoning or whatever he did to get so successful, doesn't mean shite. You were 10 leagues above him before and are 1000 now after he decided to be an arse."

"_Oh, _Ron," she replied in a small voice, ludicrously sensing tears well up in her eyes.  
She really was temperamental when smashed.

"_HEY! _What're you guys still doing up here, come dannnceeee!"

Ginny was completely obliterated. Shots will do that to good people. The couple had reappeared to take a break from the sweaty crowd.

"God, my heels are killing me."  
Ginny pulled out a random chair and sat on it beside Hermione, wiping perspiration off her brow.

"You're _really_ convincing me to want to go with you, Gin," Hermione laughed, receiving a reproachful look back, and felt relief that somebody had come in before she did something stupid like cry or worse.

"Oh stuff it, don't be so _boring," _she dropped her head on the table and feigned sleep, snoring very loudly.

"_Gin_," Harry warned her, both amused and mortified. "Don't get us kicked out by being obnoxious, the bartender almost was ready to cut you off. Been eyeing your 'moves' all night."

"And _you_ - you're being a butt!" she poked his chin. "Remember when we used to have adventures at Hogwarts, and paid no heed to the rules? By the way, my dance moves are fab and you're just jealous. Tsk tsk, Mr. Hero. Not a good look. Now c'mere!" she yanked him by his collar downwards, snogging him passionately.

After a stunned moment of confusion, he obliged and touched her face, kissing her back. Plopping his rum on the table to become more invested, it got uncomfortable for everyone around really fast.

"Looks like I'm out of cash, going to run to the ATM thing across the street. Hermione, wanna join?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm out too," she added, patting her non-existent dress pockets and practically tripping down the stairs.

Following Ron out the door, they crossed the street past the smoking patrons on the sidewalk, and into an HSBC branch. In the silence of the tiny room her head was ringing.

"You really are out of money. I thought it was an excuse," she confessed, leaning against the ABM while he tried to figure out the machine. By the looks of how pristine his debit still was, she figured she was in for a humorous treat.

"Yeh, well, I didn't want to spend more money but, hell, weekend off. Might as well. Don't really fancy seeing my sister try it on with my best mate, but they'll get it together when they realize we've left. Probably grab one more beer and then gonna head out."

"Oh, well alright," she replied, swaying a bit, unable to stand still. After a solid minute of shaking impatiently, and him pressing innumerable buttons, he started muttering swears under his breath.

"_Stupid….Bloody muggle shit…god dammit - _"

"Ron, you have to enter your password," she giggled, peeking at the screen. "Don't you remember it?"

"Youdo it then, Miss Genius," he taunted, grabbing her elbow and playfully pushing her in front of him. "It's 3794. Forty quid, please."

As she concentrated on withdrawing his pounds, she felt warm breath on the nape of her neck. And his hands sweeping her hips lightly, innocently, but sparking something powerful nonetheless. Once she finished the transaction, she spun slowly round, gazing up at him. Noticing the lust in his eyes.

"H-here," she stuttered, reaching up and placing the bills and card in the breast pocket of his plaid long-sleeve.  
First mistake was that she left her fingers to linger.  
Second was when he seized her by the elbows and melted his mouth onto hers.

"_Fuck, Hermione," _he groaned, when she responded by jumping up and clutching fistfuls of his hair, pulling him down to her. He cupped her arse and lifted so she could rest on the minuscule ledge for easier access.

Fiercely groping each other, the third mistake was when he snaked his hand under her dress and into her panties to stroke her wet slit, making her jaw drop in the most delightful of ways. Hermione wasn't expecting to be so aroused by how naughty this was, there were cameras watching and street lights outside; but she was. For the next few minutes they got lost in listening to their ragged breaths, feeling the dull ache of sexual desire, and the sensation of skin on skin.

Ready to cum, Ron had to withdraw from her as they were unfortunately interrupted by some drunk party of people, catcalling and whistling as they pulled apart. Hermione readjusted her dress, blushing red while annoyed she didn't get to get off.

"Ey, sexy, you was at the bar cross the way, yeah? Fancy dancing with me when we get back, lass? I'll show you a good time."

"No, but thanks," she smiled gaily.

"Oh come on. Lovely girl like you? Dump ginger boy over here. He's a muppet."

"_A muppet?"_  
She was way too wasted to take this seriously, the glazed look in his eyes and snickers from his friends letting her know it was all in fun. But drunken boys are stupid, and Ron balled his fists.

"Yeah, youse a sour looking one," he slurred, nudging the biggest in the group to egg him on to fight.

Hermione was too anxious, wanting to sink into her sheets with a boy to do this tonight. She held onto Ron's bicep gently and led him out.

"And let me guess, you must have a _great _personality?"

Everyone laughed except for the rejected chap, and Hermione felt victorious as they returned to the bar. Slinking onto dance floor, they mixed in with the crowd to seek out Ginny and Harry. In their drunken stupor they so desired to regale the tale of the trip to the bank.

When they couldn't find their mates, the final mistake they made was during the last song of the night.

"_I'm back in Liverpool, and everything seems the same, but I worked something out last night in this little boy's brain…"_  
Hermione edged her way up to the front to witness the bands closing number, agreeing that they _were_ actually quite good.

"_Please learn from my mistakes, please learn from my mistakes."_

Coming up behind her again, Ron held on to her waist as he drank. While he was steadied, she gyrated to the sound against him. When she sensed him getting hard and gripped tighter, fingernails biting into her middle, she whispered "I'm going to _shag you _really nicely tonight."

Banging their bodies against the more dedicated fans, they finally found their friends who were too far gone to realize what was happening.

"_Let's dance to Joy Division, and celebrate the irony! Everything is going wrong, but we're so happy, yes we're so happy! Thank you London!"_

The singer screeched his thanks while the strum of the guitar ended the set with a flourish. Cheers rose to ear-splitting level.

"That was so _great!" _Ginny squeaked as the boys on stage waved and exited to the green room. "Let's find a freaking taxi and blow this popsicle stand."

Beckoning her fiancée towards her, she hopped onto his back and said 'Yah!'. After his initial startling, Harry brayed like a noble steed and ran from the place, stumbling on the way out the door.

"She's been watching way too many American films. Who does that?"

"Let's get the hell out of here," Ron managed to spit out through choking laughter, holding her hand and dragging her out into the evening air.

_Somewhere else in London…_

"So what happened this fine day that made you run out of people to hang out with?"

Draco was caught off guard by the question, and turned his attention back to Georgia May, who was stirring her margarita with the cocktail stick, sucking on the olive.

"Wow, that was rude. I only meant, we don't really know each other. Why call _me_? I was a bit nonplussed when you rang," she spat the pimento onto her napkin, making a face. "_Ugh, _bar olives always taste disgusting."

They were resting on a fuscia divan in Mamounia Lounge, a swanky Moroccan themed joint. It was quite expensive to get in unless you were famous, but worth the price as nobody had bothered them, and to Georgia's pleasure, nobody had recognized her.

He decided to just spill his guts, possibly spurred on by wine. They always say it's best to do it on strangers.

"Well, since it all came out you shacked up with Blaise, people have been interrogating me nonstop about if I knew. And for the sake of everyone involved, which apparently I am, I've refused to answer them straight. I just needed to escape my house, couldn't sleep, nothing going on in the morning."

"But again, why me?"

"I must divulge the sad truths here. Georgia, I don't really have many friends. And Pansy, you know, she was the closest one I have. But she's pissed off now, and very nosy. Besides her, and even she's guilty, I got nobody who likes to go out with for the hell of it. I always have to be going to some affair or be preparing for one."

"God, welcome to my _life_," she pouted, falling forwards on the table, hitting it with her head.

She was a very amusing person, her mannerisms extreme and accent changing from London to Brooklyn every sentence. 'Pansy-lite' was what Draco had named her in secret. A bit crazy and always speaking her mind, she wasn't quite so catty, a real free spirit.

"Same boat, different strokes?"

"Oh yeah. In New York most people don't care who I am or know, and my college mates treat me like I'm normal. That's why I went there, why I moved. Favourite city in the world to be honest, but I do miss my dad loads though. My mum, she's from there, is a bit _wacky_, yes, even wackier than my father," she chuckled at his expression. "It can get to be too much. But same goes for here; everyone puts me on a glittering pedestal, stupid British gossip blogs and tabloids track me every move. It's _nerve _wracking. I feel like I'm being watched 24/7."

"That sounds pretty terrible," he replied deadpan, and she whacked his arm. He grinned back, sipping the rest of his wine.

"_No sympathy_," she mumbled with a coy smile. "Ah, that's why I like you, you know. Don't seem fake. I could tell when you walked in the room that first time we met that you weren't. Vivienne said that to me too."

"Yeah well, I'm just a very blunt person who likes calling people out, not exactly the most genuine," he countered, pouring himself another.

"Take a compliment, you tosser. Out of your friends, you seemed the least pretentious. And shut up, I know Blaise is probably the worst of them."

"You have _no_ idea, love," he winked, wherein she grumbled. "And thank you. I should say the same about you. You're very fun to talk to, very chill. Don't get too riled up, but don't act like a door mat."

"Darlin', I spent so long trying _not_ to be what everyone expected that I was anything but what I _wanted _to be," she disclosed, signalling to the waitress she'd like another beverage, pointing to a foreign concoction on the menu. "That mint tea thing I had earlier was good, think I want another. This place is really nice by the way, thanks for inviting me out."

Her words were spinning in and out of his brain, momentarily distracting him.

"_Draco?"_

"Sorry," he focused on her once more. "My pleasure, but what do you mean by what 'everyone expected'?"  
He stretched out his limbs, yawning because it was nearly 1. He'd called her at 10 and met up at 11 by the tubes, impressed she'd risk taking them. God only knew what would happen to a gorgeous girl in the dark. The staff had been flirting with her all night as a testament, and she deflected it with grace, guess that was what models and famous people do.

"The public and the fans were waiting for me to either fuck up with drugs or drink, or else be a star and have a band, be a model like mum. Then criticize me either way. And I was so afraid of falling into that cliché trap, I always hid. But I felt like I was in a cage you know? Like, this is gonna be really conceited sounding, but I can probably do anything I want. I have the means and the connections to pursue whatever, but that fact scared me so much that I refused to try anything at all. Where's the challenge, the thrill, or sense of accomplishment, you know? If I don't have to work for it."

Never in his time on earth had somebody else described his predicament and sentiments so perfectly.

"And then I thought a few years ago, well _fuck_ it. Didn't want to get wrinkly and then tackle and sort out my priorities too late along. I kept getting asked to model so once Viv did, I decided I liked her designs and I just went. I like to draw, pretty rubbish at it, but it's fun, I'd like to learn about it. So I picked a school and just went. What a waste it would be to have all these opportunities and throw them away because I'm what, _vulnerable_? Hell no. Are you alright, you're pale."

"I'm always pale," he murmured, causing her to let out a small titter. "Fuck mate, you just verbally stated all my internal thoughts. It's eerie."

"_Really? _Nobody else ever gets what I mean if I explain it."  
She leaned in closer, in an unusual state of speechlessness.

"Yes, to a tee what you just said resonates with me. My parents are the worst kind of rich people. With all due respect, and not to take away from your situation, at least your mum and dad are cool."

Georgia snorted, widening her eyes. "If you say so."

"I'm serious. I'd never hear the end of it if I went to America. They'd think I was running away. I know people talk about what I've chosen to pursue. Dear old daddy and mummy are the kind that like to one-up, and are part of a society that are narcissistic to the point where I can't step a toe out of line or everyone will talk about it for weeks behind my back. They have high expectations and pushed me to try and be something I'm not interested in being. I will admit I dicked around after school but they told me out the blue 'hey son, we're cutting you off until you find a job.' So that's why I'm here now, I used to live in Wiltshire, I'm so out of my element. I didn't want this. At least you plucked up the courage, I was forced. Got no ideas of what I'm doing with my 'business', but here I am doing alright, getting lots of attention because I had help from the right people. I don't really give two fucks if I fail, I feel utterly useless all of the time. And it's as if I'm stuck in limbo with people who don't even care about me, they just care about what I do so they don't look bad."

"Aw, honey," she stood up to pat him on the head, almost towering him in her stilettos to start with. "Don't worry, you'll find someone you can trust; who loves you and will fight off the wolves. I'm sure of it."

"I hope so. I can't imagine why I just told you all that. Stop being easy to confide in," he grinned, going a bit pink.

"You wouldn't _believe _how many have said the exact same thing. Pent up anger, I'm good at sussing it out. And don't hope, _try_," she appealed, slamming her fist onto the tablecloth. "You're a chick magnet now, remember? Soon to be famous stylist, a bonafide stud; and don't you forget it."

"Yeah, not quite. I'm pretty pathetic, never had a girlfriend. I've come to the conclusion that I'm un-fanciable, just got money," he explained deadpan. "What about you though? Got the blokes lined up in a queue. You're basically a solid 10. Too independent or something?" he inquired, causing her to close her eyes and grin, like she was charmed by his comment but had heard it dozens of times before.

"You are _not_. You just seem closed off to everyone else, _cold. _So when you make an effort to talk it's like it's a façade if somebody doesn't know you. That's what I noticed."

"I thought you said I wasn't fake not ten seconds ago," he argued, amused but slightly irritated at her changing story.

"Well, the first thing I ever heard you say was 'Bugger off, Pans!' and gave her this little smirk and impish shove. You were yourself round her, and thus around me. And you're a liar, she definitely fancies you, always had her hands on some appendage of yours. Why _not_ Pansy?"

"She has a boyfriend, remember?" he said, hating how crystal clear his best friend was to see through. He didn't enjoy how outsiders noticed it.

"Doesn't matter if she wants you, does it? She likes him but I know she wants you more, I'm a _girl_."

"Well it matters to me. I don't love her is all. She's great in her own way, but I never got that punch in the gut."

"Punch in the gut? Explain." Georgia was curious now.  
While she had liked Draco's personality, it wasn't until this midnight adventure that she recognized he wasn't full of himself. He played ball with the boys he knew, she heard the way he spoke to his employees and 'mates'. But she could tell now he was vulnerable like everyone else, and was being more than amicable right now, very open. People were not often like this with her until much later on in their friendship.

"This is going to sound petty and like I'm holding a grudge, maybe I am, but Blaise dated this girl in sixth year; Eliza Omirou. She was amazing, really unlike the rest of them. I was _completely_ head over heels, could barely talk to her, always felt like I was going to puke when I was around her presence. And I guess it wasn't obvious at all until one weekend during summer where I blurted it out to someone. Was really drunk. Probably Theo I told, that unpleasant looking bloke. Blaise kept it a secret from her only so he could throw it in my face after that. It's a big part of the reason I dumped them all, mostly because I was sick of them winning everyone over at school and everyone still hated my guts. I never professed my love, but I'm over it now. I regret it, though she moved back to Rhodes where she was from, it probably wouldn't have worked anyways."

He sighed and thought back to his first crush, with her kind face, petite frame, and soft auburn curls. Draco hoped she was doing well now. She was very smart, and obviously being in Slytherin, very wealthy.

"That's so sad," Georgia pouted. "Fucking adolescence, man."

"Agreed."

He had yet to reveal that story to anybody, least of all Pansy. It was nice to let it out.

An epiphany hit him that _this_ was a big reason he despised the fibre of Blaise's being. Not just because of his constant flaunting, but because he'd turned everyone against him with a snap of his finger. Perhaps that's why they'd dropped him in sixth year, because he thought he'd plot to steal her away.

Draco didn't feel remorse for breaking up his spiel with Granger, so maybe a bit more revenge and it would be even. Blaise had done the same with Eliza and had used Hermione, only in Hogwarts it was because she was one of the fittest girls there. Now they were adults he hadn't changed, it seemed so petty.

"One of these days I'll come across Blaise and punch him in the dick. Deal?"

"Deal."  
Slugging back the almost empty bottle of chardonnay, a morose pain was creeping over him. And he wanted it to cease and desist, it wasn't the place or time.

"Don't get all pouty. So you haven't had a girlfriend, so what? Dating is fine! I'm 20, you're what? 22? I've only had one serious boyfriend. Nothing to be ashamed of, we're still babies."

"Never been on one of those, either. I'm a dateless virgin, hopeless case. Kissed Pansy once at a party, that's the extent of my romantic encounters. I said it was pathetic," he restated to a Georgia May that had now adopted a sad puppy dog look.

"Sweetie...oh sweetie." Getting up and wrapping her arms round his shoulders, she didn't know what else to do. "Poor you. Really had a hard time at school, eh?"

"No," he muttered though the curtain of blonde. "I was a prick for the first few years. I made all of them dislike me. Blaise just helped the process."

"Regardless," she put her thumb to his lips to make him stop sulking. "That _is _pathetic. I almost hoped you were putting me on to get me into bed, but you're not. You're a good time, and don't deserve to be punished forever for being a petulant 14 year old."

"Get you into bed? Would you let me then?" he asked, tongue in cheek. "I haven't lost all hope, just most of it."

"Don't play the 'woe is me' card, you dolt. Never works. And who knows, you _did _invite me out and provided me with privacy and free alcohol."  
Tugging on a silk curtain that hung to separate the guests in the lounge, she whipped it closed and sat down on Draco's lap, resuming hugging him, and swung her legs out.  
"And apparently, I'm such a _tramp."_

Smile on his face at her confidence, he wasn't so oblivious that he couldn't anticipate what was coming next. She planted a soft peck on his jaw, slowly trailing up to his mouth. Hesitation and nerves crippled him momentarily, but this is what he wanted, _wasn't it?_

Caressing her hair, she emitted a satisfied 'mm' that he was on board and moved a thigh over to straddle him, gliding a solitary finger from his neck down to his trousers, as they embraced each other with a tentative yet exciting vigour.  
He enjoyed a woman who was bold, and she enjoyed a man who wasn't so cocky all the time. She found his predicament and the manner in which he'd explained it strangely cute, and worthy of having her remedy the situation.

Pushing him further against the cushions, she was palming his cock now while he hadn't figured put where else to put his hands. Wanting to unzip his jeans so she could lick him, Georgia breathed that it was her favourite thing to do in his ear. Real power was the ability to get your partner so wound up by what you're doing to them, she thought, blowjobs are _not_ submissive.

So when she did find the metal pull, Draco didn't quite know why he froze, and why he gently told her to stop even though he was rock solid.  
"What's wrong? They won't interrupt us, don't worry," she sunk to the carpet and he was so turned on that he almost gave in. Almost.

"I just – _fuck, _there's something wrong with me. I can't do it," he whined, and she halted, shocked almost. "You're a great girl but I don't see us getting together, do you? Somehow I want that, to be dating the person I have sex with. I'd like to be able to hang out with you and not ruin this. That's the problem. I can't so easily just let go the way you can, you could shag me and not be weird tomorrow. God, how lame am I? _What kind of a man_…" he grunted an audible 'augh!', pulling out strands from his head in frustration, and thrusting his face in his hands.

"Draco...no, I don't want to be with you. I think you were right, I'm too independent to get attached right now. You're just being honest with yourself, you put stock in intimacy a lot more than me. And maybe that's why you haven't shagged Pansy or fucked random chicks," Georgia recovered, fixing her hair and sitting beside him, a bit embarrassed, a bit rejected.

"Well _you're_ not random. You're lovely and you deserve much better than me," he said, resting his head on her shoulder. "I just know I would be unsettled in the morning, not because of you, because of my own hang-ups."

She pulled him down so he was lying on the sofa, smoothing down his hair soothingly with a spare hand while she hovered over top.

He really wasn't bad looking, she decided. He had the most unique eyes, was relatively fit, and he played up his fairness well by the way he dressed and styled his hair.  
Oddly wanting him now, perhaps because he _didn't_ want her, before now she was simply ready for anything, for something wild as she always was. Ultimately, she was chuffed that he wanted her in his life without merely wanting to bang. So she tried to salvage the night and continue like how it was before.

"I appreciate it, trust me. And I wish you the best in your quest for Eliza 2.0," she taunted jokingly, while he flipped up his middle finger. "_Rude. _Now, let's get you home and we can watch a movie or something. My house is empty and boring, and you live like 10 blocks away. And probably don't want to go alone."

He contemplated the offer for a second. Wasn't tired in the least.  
"Alright, let's go."

"_Alright, let's go."  
_Hermione and Ron had gotten into bed the same time Draco and Georgia did. Only they weren't having a James Bond marathon. They were naked.

Harry commandeered Ginny, so they had her whole flat to themselves. Possibilities and scarce opportunities too good to pass up, they'd already shagged on the couch twice, and had now decided to change scenes.

Ron shoved her onto the sheets, spreading her legs wide to lap at her already drenched clit, teasing a finger in her at the same rhythm he was licking so she was screaming with maximum bliss.

"_Fuck me, fuck me again Ron," _she begged.

_This_ was what she needed, something to make her feel alive again. To feel sexy.

She hadn't expected that Ron would be so _rough, _he was normally gentle in everything he did. Seizing her by her stomach, he twisted her around from her starfish pose and motioned for her to get on her knees. She obeyed him without a fuss. He stood up from his position on the hard floor and proceeded pulling her back by the hips so she was level with him. He thrust into her easily, pounding her doggy-style, his favourite position. And now, hers.

"_Your so hot," _he growled at her pleasured mewls. "I've been waiting to do this forever."

"_We should do this every night," _she moaned.

The angle hit all the best spots, and she got her third release that night quickly, out of breath by the enthusiasm they put into it.

But he wasn't done yet, the first few fucks giving him a longer last to his endurance. He hoisted her torso up, craving more closeness to her. Massaging her tits, he was now able to bite her neck and she had the leverage to push back on his cock with delicious force. Ready to burst, he gave her all he had until he came inside, both of them collapsing in a heap.

She was intoxicated, but not completely idiotic. As Ron relaxed in a peaceful ecstasy she made her way to the living room. Waving her wand, she was using the contraception spells they'd learned in seventh year, protection one cast before they'd made love the initial time.

Returning to the boudoir with some crappy champagne and a new album to listen to, they slugged it back lazily, conserving what energy they had left. Before they succumbed to sleep, she got to ride him once more and he got a fantastic trip down south as a reward for being prolific at oral.

It was all well and good that they were thoroughly shagged that night, because in the morning a shitstorm was waiting for them.


	9. Remedies

Chapter Nine: "Remedies"

There were innumerable reasons why Hermione Granger was an unfailingly sensible person. However, she decided after finding herself hungover next to Ron, that perhaps she went too far in that direction. Her life had no balance, or perhaps, she didn't know how to mediate it properly. Because calculating the outcome of being reckless was usually enough to get her to drop radical notions from her mind. Yet she never stopped to actually do anything remotely spur of the moment most of the time, and here it was now, a giant mess she landed in when she finally decided to be careless. There existed no justification to what had happened, and she couldn't figure out why the drunk version of herself would resort to banging a taken man, let alone one of her best friends.

Obviously, he was at fault too. They were both vulnerable and horny, and both had the chemistry that made it almost irresistible to be naughty.

However, being a generally kind person with high morals and feelings, Hermione now had the lovely sensation of bricks crushing her insides with guilt and remorse. And it only became a million times worse when Ron woke up in the same mind state.

She had gotten up first, sitting in silence under her duvet, staring at her reflection in the wardrobe mirror, waiting for him to arise.

"_Oh my god, oh my god."  
_He was hyperventilating immediately, eyes wide as consciousness overtook him and noticed who was next to him. Momentarily affronted, she wasn't sure if she should pat his back soothingly when he flailed about under the sheets or leave him be. Because she wasn't entirely certain if he was feeling bad because he'd un-technically cheated or because it was Hermione he ended up in the sack with. Perhaps both.

"I'm…..going to have a shower."  
Quietly exiting her room, she peeked around the flat to see if her roommate was back in. Luckily she wasn't, but as she went to snatch her robe, she heard the sound of silent sobs.

_This is why I don't do one night stands,_ she cringed in her head as she walked in shame to the loo. The atmosphere was so awkward, she wanted to curl up and die. He was so upset about last night he was _crying_.

"_Well, he isn't single, that's effing why," _she mumbled to herself as she stepped under the hot water, banging her face against the wall, not bothering to even flick on the light.  
With no ideas on what she was going to do, or how she would explain this to Ginny (Or worse, Harry), tears welled up and she wasn't able to stop them.  
_"I'm never drinking again."_

Draco was in the complete opposite of positions in his flat. He was suffering from a mild headache, but was otherwise content and was well rested as he stretched. Georgia had ended up nodding off next to him, borrowing a t-shirt and boxers. It was all harmless, dresses aren't meant for relaxing. They just enjoyed a night in, watching bad old films, eating good pizza, and sharing even better company. It was nice to be around someone who wasn't judgemental or big-headed, it was nice not to be alone.

Thinking that he overslept and she had left for some event more important and appealing, he was surprised to see her cooking in his kitchen when he yawned his way to the main floor after getting dressed. It was odd to see such a put together person so messy, her fingers and clothes covered in batter. He'd never even used the stove before. Didn't know how to work it.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she sung, the smell of sizzling bacon and pastry filling his nostrils.

"Morning," he responded a bit confused. He hadn't bought any meat in weeks, and he hadn't a clue on how to make pancakes. It was daily routine now to cross the street, narrowly avoid bikers, and pop into the patisserie for a croissant in the morning, and strolling to Hyde Park.

"You really need to go shopping, love. There's plenty of nice markets in this area. No wonder you're so thin. Now, eat," she poked his stomach as he walked over to the cupboard and reached up to grab some tea, looking him up and down. "Is that one of Viv's shirts you're wearing? Going somewhere today?"

"Yeah I probably should," he shrugged, admiring that she got up early to go buy food for them. "Thanks by the way, I do appreciate it. I'm really bad at the culinary arts unfortunately. I'm also lazy, I buy most of my meals, not make them. And yes it is, do you like it?"  
He spun round and posed ridiculously, now able to be himself with her. It didn't take long for him to get comfortable, but most he associated with never let outsiders in enough to allow him to want to put his guard down, being a Malfoy with a reputation didn't ease the process. He wasn't sure if she found him attractive or merely was intoxicated last night, but he could say with certainty that she at least _liked _him, and that was good enough.

"Obviously, you cheeky bastard," she stuck her tongue out. "You look nice."

"I do try, you know. I'm meeting someone for an appointment at 2, so I have a few hours. What d'you want to drink? Please don't say a margarita."

"Dammit, I was going to you know," she joked, pushing him lightly. "I prefer espresso, gets me right going. Holy moses, you could open up a _shop _though, with all this stuff," she remarked about his tea habit, amused at how organized the cupboard was.

"Yeah, I might just do that."  
He sat down, pouring sugar in his drink, watching her empty the mixing bowl onto the skillet, while playing idly with the cutlery.

"Is it good? I make a mean chocolate chip pancake," she inquired.

"Goodness, I've only just sat down."

"Well god, hurry up. If they're rubbish I'm going to have to make some more!"  
They continued to bicker with each other for a while as he ate her delicious breakfast; and then the doorbell rang.  
Startling them both, she watched as he furrowed his brow. Watched as he stood up apprehensively off his stool, with a gait of a cornered cat.

"I take it you're not expecting anyone? Want me to go change?" she asked, adding more syrup on her already drenched plate.

"No, no….it should be okay," he replied uneasily, walking to the entrance hall.

Opening up to reveal a dissatisfied Pansy, he found his happy demeanor rapidly missing.  
"Hey, Pans, what's up?"

"Don't you act all casual to me, _mister. _You haven't returned my texts! Or hundred phone calls. I thought you'd _died!" _she screeched, shoving him into his house. "It keeps going straight to voicemail."

_Whoops, _he mused. He'd left his phone at home when he went out, and it had died by the time he returned. He could've charged it but he wasn't troubled by its absence. Besides, it was rude to be on it with guests over.

"Pansy," he chuckled. "You're insane. I'm fine."

"Lucky you, I've been seriously worried! You're clean and decent, you're apparently going out. How the hell is it so hard to contact someone! A_ugh!"  
_The queen of dramatics strolled further into his flat, and before there was time to explain the scene she set upon, Georgia had greeted her with a happy 'Oh hi, Pansy."

And Draco knew by the way she answered, that he was fucked.  
"Hello Georgia May. Sorry, Draco didn't inform me he had _company."_

Catching the model's eye, he gave an apologetic look. But she, like many well versed in bitch-speak, was a pro at redirecting conversation, and acting like nothing affected her.

"We hung out yesterday, it was a bit last minute," she explained sweetly, licking the tip of a peeled banana.

"_Clearly,"_ Pansy snipped. "Draco, you are a _great_ pretender. I didn't realize you had become so, what's the word?…._Cavalier_."

For once in his life, Draco Malfoy was speechless. The claws had been unsheathed, and he didn't know how much goading Georgia could take with grace, seeing she was almost as fiery as the girl starting the altercation.

"He's not pretending," Georgia laughed disbelievingly. "We didn't have sex, love. No need to fret."

"I'm not fretting," she blushed red, exhaling to calm herself.

"Yes you are, don't feel bad about it. You care about his welfare, nothing wrong with that, eh?"

Pansy was rarely faced with such kindness or logic. She didn't know what to do.  
"I – "

"But it's none of your business about who he decides to go out with. So maybe don't jump to conclusions, hm?" she suggested, getting off her chair to make her way upstairs. "It'll just turn your hair prematurely grey. I'm going to get changed, Draco. Meeting up with some old friends later."

Sneering at her apparent rival sashaying away, Pansy mumbled under her breath: "_I don't much care for her."_

"No, you probably wouldn't."

"And why do you say _that_?"  
Her voice was small, quizzical, and _almost _enough to make Draco quit what he intended to say. But Georgia May's words were swimming in his head, how Pansy was so obvious about desiring him, and how much it seemed to matter to him that he needed to bang a girl he loved first. He didn't want to be like this. It seemed ever so juvenile.

Draco found it essential to get rid of Pansy's grip on him, he realized last night that he was using her protection as an excuse for not putting himself out there, and counted on her far too much to pick up the slack when he needed defending or companionship.

"Because we kissed last night."  
He admitted it with a calm detachment, rubbing the skin on his thumbs over his nails, staring at her directly, watching her expression fall from shock to a delicate despair.

Fumbling to find something in her purse, she looked anywhere but at him, something uncharacteristic of her usual nature that made him feel unnerved.  
"Did you do any more than that?"

Suddenly the strain in the room came flooding in all at once, like an oil spill leaking into once clear waters. He decided to be _technical_.  
"No."

"So, if it wasn't a one night stand, then why would she stay over?"

"Because she's my mate," he clarified, to which she snorted.

"Your _mate? _You've known her for five minutes. Do you like her, then?" she asked acidly, as if yearning for such a person was sickening.

"No, I don't."

"Then why _kiss_ her?"  
Her voice broke then, and she finally snatched the phone she was seeking out of her pink bag. Opening it up, she picked a random contact to text, so she didn't have to pay full attention to him.

"Because we were drunk. Because she likes to have fun, and I'm too reserved for it to go any further. I'm a virgin, remember? Felt weird."

"You went out to drink?"

"Yes, I did. Problem?" he asked, irritated she had no know every minute detail in his life. Irritated that she sounded so hurt for no reason.  
She was left one of the only people he'd yet to stand up to, and now was as good a time as ever to confront her. Because he seriously cared for her, and it was reciprocated, but he had been wondering as of late if Blaise was right. Maybe if she _did _fuck him, she'd lose all interest, and he'd be just another thing on her most wanted list that she could cross off and forget about after a week.

"Big time. Why didn't you invite me? Or check your phone? I was texting you non-stop!"

"To find out if I knew about Granger and Zabini!" he countered, to which she growled in protest.

"At the start! _You _said that if I wanted to see you, text! And I did as you suggested! So it's _your _fault, not mine, and furthermore I – "

"_You,_ were being _bloody_ annoying."  
His tone was stern as he cut her off, and he continued before letting her quivering lips affect his conviction or daring.  
"I'm not your dog or servant to mess around with, lest you think I am, lest you think you don't treat me as such. I don't _have_ to tell you every single detail of my life, Pansy. Just as you don't have to of yours. You were trying to guilt me into revealing things that I chose not to share with you, and you _know _you're one of the only people I like, and _trust_. But you use that to your advantage against me _so often, _I'm starting to get paranoid. I have to wonder if you actually need me or you just fancy the feeling that I depend on you. Maybe you like hanging about and dragging me to dress shops because you don't want to be bored."

Raising a manicured hand to her cheek as if he'd slapped her, her eyes were burning with a rage of which he'd rarely seen.  
"_How dare you?_ You know very well how I _feel. _I've told you that I'd date you in a split second and – "

Her face suddenly grew ghostly white. She'd resolved not to mention that night _ever, _and now here it stood that she confessed freely she had remembered it.

"No you haven't!" he shouted, out of breath, uncertain of where this catalyst of emotion had started, and when it would end. For a moment she was relieved, and composed herself until he persisted. "You only spoke about having _sex _with me that night. And yes, I remember, don't be surprised," he retaliated angrily at her audacity of looking completely surprised.  
"Of _course_ I remember. You never actually came out and said you wanted to date me, or that you even love me, and why would you? Why would you even think that when you have Sergei? How could I be better than him? The answer is I'm _not, _and you'd understand that if you weren't so fixated on the idea that I _don't _want you."

"But maybe I – "

"No, you _don't_! You know you don't or else you'd be crushed when I said I never felt that way. You wouldn't have tried to suck my cock, you just like the thrill. Just want to fuck me to see if it would be nice, and then you can drop me like every other bloke that gets too close to you, that you get too comfortable around."

"Why are you being so _rude?"_

"Because I'm tired. I'm sick of your jealousy," he walked closer to her, and she flinched when his breath hit the shell of her ear. "I want to be your friend, and I want you in my life. However, you _can't_ always fly off the handle. I'm delighted I'm not solitary for months at a time anymore, but you have to get it through your head that you're not the only person for me now."

She said nothing, which only served to infuriate him more.

"Pansy, I _did _know about Blaise cheating. Georgia is the one he cheated with, and she mentioned it, and him, at dinner with Vivienne. I advised her to tell Granger first, and _yes, _I was there when it all happened in her flat. Now you know, now you can do what you may with that information. And leave me be. Any more questions?"

He was lying again.  
Yet the video he shot was long gone, he had deleted it. And mentioning its existence would throw him under the bus, revealing it would be unnecessary.

"No, _thank you. _I think you've made your message very explicit."  
Stomping out of the room, he wasn't satisfied.  
Stomping out of the room, he contemplated on if she would spill the beans to Blaise.  
Stomping out of the room, he just wanted her to turn round and apologize. A deep-seated part of him wanted to beg her not to leave, to tell her all he needed was for her to defend herself.

Because she didn't refute his statements, didn't tell him he was wrong. All she had said was 'maybe', not a definite, 'yes, I love you', or 'yes, I need you.' Not even a 'I _am_ just using you.' That's all he wanted.

Slumping onto the floor, leaning against the fridge, his forgotten house guest tip-toed back to where he was down the staircase and joined him. Gazing at nothing in particular, head against the cool steel, he spoke.  
"I shouldn't have yelled at her."

"No, probably not," Georgia replied coolly. "Do you feel any better, at least?"

He shook his head.  
"No. I wish she actually got mad. Or upset. She never relays her real sentiments until she's unable to resist, and does something stupid. I told her what happened, with you and Blaise. I'm sorry."

"It's the truth, isn't it?"

He turned to look at her, and she was impartial. She really didn't care.

"She never confirmed to me whether I was right or wrong. If she simply views me as amusement."

"Silence speaks volumes, I'm afraid."  
She laid her head on his shoulder, rubbing his knee gently with a free hand.

"It's just….annoying. Knowing that the person closest to you is not even genuine half the time. I always thought she was, because of how often her temper is lost. But I think I'm right, and I think she just doesn't want to admit to me that she's in lust. It's like I'm some school-girl crush, a little game or tool for enjoyment."

"I don't think that's totally true. Perhaps she doesn't want to lose your friendship, and is too inhibited by your existing one to throw it away."

"But I _told _her that I don't love her, or want to do her. Like, what else am I supposed to say? Or do?"

"_Oh_….right. I don't know, Draco," she groaned. "Let her think it out and come to you."

They sat there for a while, and Draco considered perhaps that he was growing up by leaving ultimatums that could result in severed ties. And he questioned whether or not he should give up his childish revenge fantasies. Tell Theo the deal was off and leave Blaise by himself, leave Granger too, to live their pathetic lives while he made his as Slytherin-free as possible. He could get used to waking up having real support there for him.  
It was so _fun_ though_, _he argued to himself. Riling up people like Hermione was _really_ fun.  
But what was there to gain?  
Where had this morality come from?

His questions unanswered, it was getting late. Eventually, the two had to part ways, while that lingering subject mottled his mind as he helped some notable singer pick out outfits for her one-on-one hot yoga class.

"Yes, Amrit is a _great_ trainer. Lost 3 lbs in one week!" she was raving through her private changing room. "_Ugh, brown? _Draco, please. You know my thighs are fat and terrible in autumn hues."

No, he didn't know.  
He couldn't even remember her name.  
Or what genre of music she sung.  
And he didn't give two fucks.

_No, _he thought, pulling purple neon spandex from a pile he'd created, throwing it over the wall and removing the offensive one she laid over it. _No, I think if I become a regular person… I'll go insane._

{}

"_With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride – you're toxic, I'm slipping under…"_

Hermione had a migraine, and was stuffing cushions over her head to drown out all noise.  
Britney Spears had been singing about casual sex for the past hour, and Ron had been ignoring her crooning, taunting them both as it was most ironically the ringtone Lavender had set for her number in his mobile. This constant calling didn't include the 25 texts she'd sent over the course of the day. Now it was late, and he still hadn't gone home. All she wanted was for him to leave.

Even if he had answered, it wouldn't have mattered; Ginny was chewing them out, she herself cursing her actions because she'd let them go home together unsupervised.

"_How could you _do _that to her, Ron?"_

_"_I thought you didn't even like her?" he asked, with no muster of passion, his demeanour defeated.

"Ah!" The ginger girl scrunched her unwashed hair in her hands, appearing thoroughly ragged and shagged. She'd only just arrived a half hour ago, and had to suss the occurrence of their evening romp out of them. "Maybe I don't, but you should break up with her if you're unhappy! Before you go trying it on with other girls!"

"You think _she_ is some other girl?" he whined, pointing at Hermione, defending himself more than her.

"No, she's not, but that's not the issue. And _don't _use the 'we were on a break', how spineless," Ginny pointed right back, as he opened his mouth. "You'd be equally pissed if she made out with, with _Seamus_ or something. Right? God, you're lucky I have to tell Harry about this, I have to go deal with him."

"He'll understand," Ron prodded her, only causing her to chuckle at his silly logic.

"Yeah, okay, Ron. You tell yourself that. Hermione, _you_ have anything to add? I thought you didn't want Ron! You said he was too up and down about his feelings. You said you wouldn't go for him. Are you out of your mind, you _just _got cheated on and _this _is how you react?"

"You said that, Hermione?"

Her worst nightmare was coming true, that she'd become everything she'd loathed, and that everything she'd tried to keep under wraps had been said without her consent.  
Moaning, Hermione rolled onto her back and pushed away the pillows.  
"I was thinking last night that I was tired of trying too hard and being so careful, to have it always turn to complete bollocks. I was thinking, drunkenly, that I just wanted to have sex. And knowing that Ron used to find me attractive, combined with him flirting with me, I did. I didn't care if he just wanted to shag, or if he was vulnerable and lonely, or if he likes me. So sue me, so fucking sue me."

The brother and sister stood dumbstruck at how defeated she appeared.  
"And yes, I did say that."

"_Hermione_ – "

"You think I don't feel bad? I don't know what to do, I don't know why I did it. I snapped, I think. And I don't expect any compassion, I want to forget it even happened."

"But it _did _happen," Ginny reiterated exasperated, rubbing her temple. "Honestly, are you two still teenagers? Own up to it. Call in Lavender and say you're sorry. Whatever decision she makes, at least you were honest."

"B-but, I don't want to hurt her. I don't want her to leave me."

"Shouldn't have drunk so much and let your other head take the reins, then, eh? Now will you _answer _that, for Merlin's sake?" A final command and Ginny marched out of the front door, slamming it behind her, no doubt traveling to inform her fiancee of how stupid their friends were.

Ron glanced at his still ringing phone in revulsion, then back and forth between it and Hermione, shrinking under her displeased gaze.  
"Well, are you going to?" she questioned.

"I dunno…."  
With him hesitating again, she rolled her eyes at his lack of nerve and stood up.

"Where are you going?" he cried, as she grabbed her keys and wallet. Sitting in this venue, rank with his infidelity and her idiocy, she had to leave.

"I need to get out of here. Lock the door won't you?"

"You're leaving me to do this by myself?"  
It was the first time today he had any sort of temperament other than anguish in him.

"Yes. Because you _know _she was always jealous of our friendship, and you know that I liked you when you two dated in school. I have nothing against her, and this wasn't out of some spite or a 'fuck you' to her, so it's best if _you _confront her alone."

"No it isn't! You're being a coward!" he exclaimed to her back, and she froze but for a moment before unlatching her escape.

"About time I slipped up, hm?"  
There was no reply.

Getting onto the dark street, she almost felt safe, as he had not chased her, until she saw ringlets of gold bouncing in her direction.

"_Hermione! Hermione!" _She was unable to avoid this, Lavender was click-clacking her way over lightning fast. "Have you seen Ron? I meant to call you earlier, but I was busy. He's been avoiding me all day, I thought perhaps he was in trouble. He said last night he was going out with you, so I thought maybe you'd know."

The desperation and worry set Hermione off in a manner she had not anticipated. She'd been numb all morning after her initial cry, and it wasn't until now that she wanted to confess all her sins and grovel on her knees.

"Lavender – "  
Faltering, there was a light inside her spurring her on: _Do it, you have to do it.  
_Swallowing, she reminded herself that she was a Gryffindor, and her will could tough it through anything. But _only _if she had made every attempt she could to right the injustices she'd made.

"Lavender, he's in our apartment, upstairs."

"What?" She was truly perplexed. No glimmer of truth had dawned on her yet, but why would it? "We were meant to go out, has he forgotten his phone? I know we've been fighting, but –"

"Because last night he got too drunk," Hermione interrupted before she lost confidence. "And had sex with me."

"_W-what?"  
_She would have preferred a seething Lavender over her appearing beaten down. Hermione should've been careful what she wished for.

"I'm really sorry, Lavender. I know you don't want excuses, but ever since Blaise cheated on me, I've felt as if I'm worthless, and was rash in thinking that having a one night stand was the remedy. And that's _all _it was, and will ever be. He's in absolute bits, has no idea what to say or how to fix it, and thought," she embellished, "if he told you over the phone you wouldn't speak to him again. But he loves you, and he wants to make it better. If you want to talk…he's up there."

Naked, Hermione gathered all the meaning she had to convey in one look, and while Lavender was convinced, and knew this girl wouldn't lie to her, a small part of her wanted to scratch her stupid seamless smile off her face.

"_How could you?"_

"I don't know," Hermione stated to the ground, wanting to hug her. "I was - I just wanted somebody…."

"Well next time get your _own _boyfriend," Lavender spat in her shrill voice, getting near enough that Hermione could smell her perfume. "You've been after his cock for years, just because he had a lapse in judgement doesn't give you the right! You watch your step! Just because everyone else thinks your perfect doesn't mean you are."

"_Lavender," _she breathed, offended. "It wasn't like that at all. He was flirting _back, _it's not just me, I do know I'm to blame as well, and- "

If she didn't feel a burning sting, she wouldn't have believed that Lavender had actually smacked her so hard. But she felt the blood flow to the left side of her face, no doubt her palm leaving a hefty mark.

"You have _some_ nerve. He always tells me you give off a tarty vibe, you probably went for him when he was upset, no doubt told you he was."

Jaw gaping, Hermione didn't dignify that with a response. She'd apologized, and she meant it. All she could do now was leave with her shame.  
Instead of going home, she turned round slowly and walked down the road in a daze, unsure of where she was going.  
And suddenly, ridiculously, a name came to her. A photographic memory was one of the gifts laced in her DNA; she remembered the digits she'd scrawled a few days previous as she waked to a booth to dial the number.

Fishing for fifty pence, she managed to catch the person she sought in the nick of time.  
And forty-five minutes later, after a stuffy streetcar ride, she dropped off in Leicester Square to Zoo Club, a scene in which she immediately felt out of place. Luckily, her name had been marked as VIP on the list.

The wooden floor was darkly lit with neon lights, and led to a funky dance space. Bright red leather couches and strange art décor scattered about around a long marble bar. Georgia May, who was surprised to be called upon by a near stranger again in such a short span, immediately bounced up to greet her. Yanking her outside to smoke a fag, she was able to talk properly, escaping the loud techno inside.

"Oh my god! Your face _does_ look red. And you look a frightful mess," she said with horror. She had to admit she was a little tipsy, it _was _a Saturday night in July after all.

Hermione sighed.  
Her hair was frizzy from the dry air, she couldn't be arsed to make herself up during the day, and was wearing tatty leggings with an ancient cable-knit sweater.

"You're right. Maybe I should just go back home. I don't feel up to going to a disco, I don't want a repeat of last night."  
She'd recounted her tale to Georgia frantically, almost incoherently, through the line, before asking if she could meet up. Just to talk or be in company.

"No, no, god, I was only here to kill time. My place is only a few blocks away, we can get you cleaned up and looking respectable," she winked. "Taxi!"

Surreal. Surreal was the only word Hermione could think of as she wiggled into the cab next to another girl who had made the same mistake as she. Only, Hermione felt even worse as Georgia kept repeating her sympathies as she blurted out more heinous details of the crime. Because she knew the story of her lover's, knew he was taken, and decided to go ahead anyways. Georgia had not a clue about Blaise's.

"If it were me, I wouldn't feel _that _bad. They were on a break, and he was leading you on! He was complimenting you all night, and he must've known how shit you felt after what I did, _god._ You used to like him! What a cad."

Georgia was a ball of energy and nerves tonight. She felt partially responsible for Draco's falling out with Pansy, and was so eager to make it up to Hermione in leeway of that, that adrenaline was currently acting as her oxygen.

"Still, I resolved not to ever be with him. I don't know, I just feel like a giant hypocrite now. I dumped Blaise for being a slag, and now I'm said slag."

"Ah, honey, we all fuck up. We're all a slave to our desires," she sang theatrically, raising a hand to her forehead, causing a small giggle to rise up Hermione's throat. "See, you're better already. Just need to unwind, in a more orderly, less reckless, fashion. I'm so glad you called, I was really hoping you'd let me make it up to you one day."

"I'm glad you were here once I actually needed you," she replied, and Georgia grinned.

They stopped abruptly in front of a very crumbly, old building. Taking her hand and dragging her into a lift, Hermione noticed she could see the River Thames looking out a window once they reached the top floor.

"Beautiful view," she commented as they walked into her apartment, which was twice the size of hers. Regarding the slightly over the top shag carpets and coloured walls with amusement, she added politely as they entered her boudoir, "And cute sheets."

Georgia's spacious bedroom was covered in leopard print. The wallpaper, a rug, her pillows, even a huge vanity was upholstered in the pattern. Countless outfits were strewn on the floor, and a heap of hair products and makeup littered every inch of available space.

"Oh, please. It's disgusting, but I'm barely ever home or awake enough by the end of the night to clean. Too proud to hire a maid," she laughed, thrusting open her closet and holding out her arms. "Dig in, ladies choice."

"Erm, I don't think your clothes will fit me, I'm afraid," she admitted, eyeing Georgia's flawless body in comparison to her own.

"Nonsense, you must be only a size or two bigger than me. Here, how about this?" She popped a navy long-sleeve dress into her hands laying on her bed, stretched out from use, and comfortable.  
She was hesitant, but this would save her time in rifling through clothes she couldn't pull off, and save her feeling embarrassed.

"Okay…"  
Deciding that obviously dear Georgia had no qualms about anything, in her tight PVC pink shorts and black crop top, Hermione stripped down to her panties, and pulled the recommendation over her head.

"Oooh, nice bra. Where'd you get it?"

"Oh, um, Agent Provocateur," she admitted, to a gleeful nod of approval. "Not usually in my budget, but, you know."

It was lacy and black, ultra sexy. Something she'd purchased with Draco's pay, which was very strange now she thought of it.

"Yes, I do. And that looks good!" she remarked, the dress was the perfect length. "You know, I'm glad my dad's making me pay for my rent. He paid for school and gives me a food and necessity budget, I suppose. But it's made me realize I can't spend all my money on pretty things nobody will see," she tittered, smoothing out the creases of fabric hung on Hermione's shoulders.

"Oh, school? What are you going for? And where?"

"Here," she patted her vinyl stool. "I'll fix you up, love. We should look fab 24/7, not just cuz there might be males in the vicinity."

So she sat down for a makeover.

_This is nice,_ Hermione decided after five minutes of gentle chatter. Having her hair brushed and being told about Georgia's art program, and of bustling New York City, it made her reminisce of Hogwarts, of simpler times, and now she longed to go back. It was nice, she decided, because she wasn't feeling under scrutiny, and she knew she could relax for a moment before returning to real life on Monday.

"I'd love to go to uni for English Lit, but I guess I don't have time now."

"No, you should! I _adore_ school, honestly. You're so young. Draco mentioned you were a lawyer, how ever did you manage that?"  
Hermione felt a jolt in her stomach at the mention of his name. Why would he talk about something like that? How could he be so tactless?

"Oh," she began puzzled. "I did well in secondary. I uh, was accepted to attend a special program to accelerate my graduation, and scored a great internship," she made up, convincing her new friend nonetheless. "Anyone can whip up a contract."

"Not _anyone. _Wow, you must be so _smart_. No wonder he wanted to hire you."

"Hire me? How do you – " A weight dropped from her mouth to her lungs, as everything that had happened in the past week became painfully clear. How was it that Draco had conveniently managed to be in her flat when Georgia had called to confess? "Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything, darling."

"Did Draco know that Blaise cheated on me?"

Georgia, who was bending down to apply a touch of lipstick, went from smiling to a deer caught in headlights, perhaps a dementor frightened by a patronus.

"Um," she stammered, moving away from her. "Well. Well, yes, he did."

"_That bastard!" _she slammed her fist on the table. "He knew! He knew all along and he was in my _house _when that shitshow happened!"

Georgia, startled at her sudden change in mood, pushed lightly on Hermione's head, as if she was a roused house pet. "Dear, he _suggested _that I go to you first, and not give Blaise the benefit of the doubt. He only wanted me to tell you because he said you didn't like him."

"_Excuse me?"  
_This information was alarming. Why would he be so decent?

"I got the feeling from how he asked me, that if he told you, you'd somehow back out from helping him, and he didn't want that. He made me promise not to tell you, but one day you would've wondered how I knew you were dating, who gave me your number, and then what?"

"That _dirty, little weasel!" _she seethed, clenching her teeth, feeling dim-witted.

"Hermione, he was the one that told me you were dating Blaise, he was the one who put an end to any further affairs. Maybe you don't care for him, but he went to see you in your flat and texted me the a-ok to inform you of the cheating. Said he wanted to make sure you were alright beforehand. He's not a bad guy," Georgia defended, confused to her strong reaction.

"That idiot warned me Blaise would be scum! He warned me and then didn't tell me when he finally was? _Why?_ Why didn't he?"

"I don't know! I'm sorry I told you, I – "

"You don't know him like I know him," she explained, staring with such fury that Georgia had to speculate if perhaps she'd been wrong about Draco. "He made my life hell in school, he deceives people for his own personal pleasure or gain, and even if he _can _be decent, he's only doing it for himself!"

"But why would he be nice to you if he didn't like you? People change you know."

"Ha! Not him."

Georgia left it alone for a second, allowing this woman she'd scorned to her own stewing as she stepped away from the finished primping. Hermione examined herself in the mirror, pleased that she did, in fact, look one hundred times better because Georgia knew how to use curling barrels properly.

"Look, you shouldn't judge him from before. If he hangs out with people as malignant as that Pansy girl, or Blaise, it's likely been hard to overcome being such an arse."

"What d'you mean?" she asked, genuinely curious. "You don't like Pansy?"

"I can't say, really. But she obviously wants to fuck him, and held it against him when he told her no. He's got it in his mind that _that's_ the only reason she stay round, because she's waiting for him to give in to her seduction. And then she'll leave."

"But that's…." Hermione glimpsed memories of the two arm in arm, always around each other. He was never with anyone else. "Isn't she his friend?"

"Yeah, she is. But, in my opinion, he's probably right. She cares for him, yet she cares more for herself. I'm certain she is frustrated that he keeps rejecting her. Anyways, I feel weird discussing his life. I was supposed to meet with him later," she added, "but I can cancel. I was going to ask if you were okay with it, but you're probably not…"

"No, no, invite him. In fact, I'd like to see his ego shot down a bit by having him answer to me."

"D'you think he's going to be pissed I told you then?" she asked with wide eyes, thinking Hermione to be out of sorts to be this incensed. _Poor girl, _she thought. _Poor Draco._

"No, he should be fine," Hermione lied through her teeth.

If she was honest, the last thing he said to her might've been _pleasant, _but she had a hard time believing that he wasn't the same person he was when he was 15, brutal and unkind. And she so desired to make him squirm.

"Okay, well I'll text him to meet us here? We can go from there….you know, he never seemed to have an ego to me. Sorry to keep discussing it, it's just really irking me. It was a façade for the boys he hangs out with," she murmured, praying that there wouldn't be a fight in her house. "You know what, i'll shut up. Here, I'm just going to tidy. Want something to drink?"

"I'll help," Hermione jumped up, feeling a bit bad she was being so rude. "And for the record, he wouldn't be an evil prat to you because you're a pretty girl that actually can stand him for more than ten seconds."

Unable to argue that logic, as it was evident he had a difficult time making people like him, Georgia started to wipe res weed and beer stains off the side table. They poured themselves white wine, and Hermione cleaned up the kitchen while the hostess put away CD's and magazines, hastily sweeping the floor and chilling more alcohol in preparation for their visitor.

Hermione was on her third drink, telling herself she was just more used to alcohol now and was nervous, not developing a habit, when the buzzer rang. If he wasn't coming, she would've kept the promise she'd made that morning, but there she was consuming more poison at every passing second.

Snapping attention to the caller box, Miss Jagger let him up, anxiously hoping the two of them would stay in order.

And when he ambled in, Georgia was the only person who had _ever_ recognized the hidden meaning in the way they looked at each other.  
He had changed after his work day, and was wearing fitted dark plaid trousers and a white t-shirt. Despite a clean shave, he looked properly ruffled and frazzled like in the morning, when Hermione Granger was sat with an almost dangerous smile on her face not ten feet away from him.

"Hello," he greeted, kicking off his boots, ill at ease under these two women's gazes.

"Hey Draco. So, bad news" Georgia wasted no time. "The jig is up, Hermione knows you knew about the infidelity. I'm really sorry, but I was helping her out tonight, as I promised to do, and it sort of slipped out. We're out of coke, anyways, and there's nothing to mix my whiskey with so I'm going to pop down to the shop for a minute."

Before he had time to argue, or think, she skipped out of the door, heels on, and left a snake in the lion's den. The silence was palpable.

"So," Hermione began, the only time today she felt the upper hand on her side, "want to take a seat?"

She indicated the chair across the island with a flourish of her hand. If he could stand up to a friend, he could stand up to her. Not wanting to back down, not expecting to have to put his guard up this night, he walked with purpose to it and sat, as she courteously poured him a glass.

"Thanks. Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?"  
Leveling his eyes to hers, he began to feel incensed at the fact that she wasn't reacting to his forwardness.

"First of all, why the _hell _would you reveal personal information about me to somebody who is not a wizard? You're towing a line here, _Draco, _and you best be careful. Second of all, you are a vile prick for not telling me _straight _away when somebody you know has been unfaithful, especially when you warned me, especially when you don't even like him. You and I sat in my apartment like bloody _fools _while I was in such a state! How could you do?"

Dragging out sipping his wine, Draco clinked his glass on the counter, gathering his wits for her. There was no doubt in him now that he could _never _follow through Theo's scheme. She was livid. He could see quite plainly she loathed him to no end. And somehow, though he was doomed to fail, he still wanted to explain his actions.

"Hermione, for revealing you as a lawyer, I do apologize. That _is _all my fault. As for everything else, please, implore me, just for a second."  
She was about to shout, but he held up a finger, and gave her that same stare of conviction he had in her flat a week ago. She let him continue.  
"If I had told you straight away, would you have believed me?"

Lowering in her seat, she chose not to reply.

"No, you wouldn't. Because you didn't believe me when I said that Blaise was using you. And again, I understand why, I _was _trying to piss you off. But I was still right, yes? I don't like him, I did have my best interests at heart, as most people would. Just because you're better than the rest of us, doesn't mean we can reach your set standards."

The heart in her chest quaked, strained with fear. He was talking to her like a regular human being, and it was almost like he'd just flattered her. She suddenly grew hot for reasons she didn't fathom, gripping her drink tighter.

Draco described to her the evening at the restaurant with Vivienne, about how horrible Georgia May had responded to the news that they had been dating, and the plan they formulated to fix it.

"I tried to make sure that the right fucking thing happened. So you can be all stroppy with me like usual, but I made _sure _Blaise didn't have time to turn you against me, and let you come to the conclusion yourself and see with your own eyes how much of a pile of dragon shit he is."

Hermione had no rebuttal, and looked at her feet, unsure of how to reply.

After an excruciating pause, the door creaked open, and Georgia returned with a 2 litre and blunt wraps, literally feeling herself cut through the tension like she was a fancy knife.  
"Um, I'm going to roll up a joint. Anyone going to share?"

"No, thank you," Hermione answered civilly.

"Maybe," Draco answered tersely, wiping a hand over his face dripped with sweat. Then he got down to act. "Anyone want another drink?"

Without replies, he shuffled around to find three cups, pulled the liquor from the freezer along with ice cubes, and measured it out generously, adding splashes of cola.

All that could be heard once the drinks were poured was the grinding of some expensive bud, and the crinkle of delicate paper. While Draco watched Hermione, and she glared back at him.  
She was upset because he had a point. She was upset because she was getting wasted two nights in a row with people she shouldn't be. And was almost finished the round he'd just handed her. The fact that Malfoy was in the same vicinity as her, and really, that she was in Georgia May Jagger's house at all, was too much to wrap her head around.

"I have just one question."  
Draco felt a shiver roll down his spine; she'd shattered the peace.  
"And then I'll let it go."

Walking up to refill her empty glass, Draco urged her to continue. Georgia snatched her whiskey before offering him a puff. And when he shook his head, she sauntered to her room, and softly closed herself in it for privacy.

"_Why?"_

Her attitude was removed from the inquiry, a quality that once again made him massively unsettled. Scared him, because he felt _regret _filling his insides.

"Why what?"

"_Why, _Draco Malfoy, the _heir _of Slytherin," she laughed mirthlessly, "why would you ever be nice to a filthy mudblood like me? Why wouldn't you consider using this as blackmail against me, or Blaise? Because you know you've done it before."

Each step he took was like a gasp for air, and Hermione felt her body go rigid when he placed himself next to her, instead of across.  
Chanel No 5 was present again in Draco's senses, whiskey and coffee in Hermione's. She tried not to take notice of the way his jaw was sharp and strong, his collarbones and neckline prominent against creamy skin. He tried not to be aware of her heaving breasts, rising and falling as she steadied her breaths, and of the way her teeth peeked through lips that were so perfectly pink.

"You know what, Granger? I've been asking the same question for a week now. I've been reassuring myself that it's because I wanted revenge on Blaise, and while that _is_ true...I don't know. I wanted to piss him off, Theo wanted to piss him off, and _you, _god he just _loved _flaunting you," he began, the timbre in his voice different. It was low, coaxing almost, a cobra ready to strike. "Maybe it's because Georgia turned out to be a lovely person, maybe it's because I'm too much of a coward to want to be linked with all this. But actually, now the people relevant in the matter know exactly what took place. Surely Pansy has told Zabini by the way he sent me a wretched, foul voice message."

She wanted to inquire further, but she was acutely aware that his hands were inches from hers, and she knew he wasn't finished.

"The truth is, _darling," _he drawled, his grey eyes scorching with something Hermione naively thought was distaste, "That Theo made a bet with me, dared me to try and talk to you to get petty revenge with Blaise. And I accepted because I _love _going against those I feel deserve it, I couldn't resist."

"And?" Hermione paused, thinking once more he still wasn't done.

"I accepted because I found myself angry every time you and he were mentioned in the same sentence. I found myself not wanting him to hurt you, when I shouldn't care at all. So I made it my mission to see _you_ dump him, as you'd been gracious towards me. And for some reason, I love riling you up. I love watching the blush creep up your face when you're flustered, _I love all the names you call me_," he was suddenly whispering, his thumb had found its way to her face.

Hermione couldn't breathe.

A bang caused them to jump from their skin, and coughs were wracking Georgia's frame as she emerged bleary-eyed, vacantly grinning, from her domain. High as a bloody kite, she noticed their proximity and as the smoke rose around her like some ghostly fairy, she retreated backwards with a coy expression.  
"My god, you two. Just fuck each other already."

When she was gone again, they flickered their gaze to one another's, shoving their hands onto their laps, reluctantly giggling a bit because of how they mimicked each other.

And then, in the aftermath, as Draco noticed her stunning smile fade, he found that he wanted to see it again. It was a thought that sobered him, a thought that blazed his entire being.

In a fit of thoughtlessness, he made his bed tonight, and was certain, whatever the outcome, he'd finally be able to sleep in it.  
He seized her by the tamed hair on her head, and smashed his lips onto hers.


	10. Dealing in Absolutes

Chapter Ten: "Dealing in Absolutes"

A million questions and a million feelings were running through Hermione's head and veins, but it was Georgia May's laugh of '_We're a slave to our emotions', _that tattooed to the beat of her heart. Draco Malfoy was snogging her, and it was with such intensity that she didn't know how to react.

So she did nothing.  
And when he pulled back, she saw he wasn't embarrassed, wasn't covering up or apologizing for his audacity. She grew hot, incredibly, awfully hot, and experienced the horrible sensation of being exposed.

"_What do you think you're doing?"_  
It was a stammering whisper she released, and she cursed herself for not sounding stronger, for letting him know he affected her.

"Kissing you," he smirked, and his confidence only served to falter hers.

"Draco, I don't want you to be. Not right now…I've, _god, _I've made too many mistakes in the past few days."

"Well what's the harm in making a few more, then?" he asked, drawing her chair closer to him so their knees grazed. But as he leaned in to grab her again, she put a hand on his chest.

"Because I'm fairly certain I've ruined friendships by them, and that's not something I care to repeat."

"I'm not your friend," he countered, clutching her fingers in his, to which she shook him off.

"No, no you're not. Why would you want _me?" _she questioned, her tone laced with apprehension. Unable to stop herself from thinking he was up to something. "You're drunk."

"I'm not, though," he laughed, shaking his head. "Look at me."  
He pointed to his eyes; examining them, they weren't glazed. She didn't know how to feel about that.

"I am, though," she lied. She _was_ moments ago, but his lips had surged her into sobriety, save for her vision becoming hazy. But that probably wasn't from the alcohol. "I barely even know you, you don't even like me."

"How do you know if I like you, Granger? Haven't I just said I do?"

"B-but," she stuttered, tucking curly strands behind her ears, wondering why she couldn't will her legs to move.  
She needed to turn him off her, she needed to create an opportunity for escape.  
"I had sex with Ron last night," was what she blurted out.

"I made out with Georgia last night," he shrugged, astounding her.

"You did?"  
_How could somebody try it on with _Georgia_, and not go further?_ she pondered, flabbergasted. _Why would she consider him worthy of getting in the bedroom?_

She then remembered that people could be extremely charming, as she'd done the deed with scum, Blaise. It seemed that her new mate paid little heed to who she slept with, but then, that wasn't true. She was wasted at Draco's party, just as Hermione was wasted the evening before with Ron. And Georgia wouldn't willingly cheat, she just was so spontaneous that these things didn't bother her.

"Wait, that's not the issue," she rubbed her face. "I _cheated. _I'm a horrible human being. I broke up with Blaise and made the same offence."

"Did you?" Draco asked, slightly impressed, extremely amazed. Hermione was annoyed he sounded curious instead of disgusted.

"Yes. Ron was 'on a break' with Lavender, but it doesn't matter, they still care for each other. I'm a giant hypocrite. I'm just as bad."

"Did you want it? Did he want it? _Yes_. It's not all your fault, love."

"But I am the one who's _always_ rational_,"_ she cried, smashing her fists onto the table, falling apart in front of the last person she wanted to. "He was upset, we were both vulnerable. And I _knew _it. Just _why?"_

"People screw up."

"And _why," _she rose, ignoring him, expression blazing, "why didn't _you_ go all the way?"

Draco took a sip of his whiskey.  
"She was up for it, but I didn't want to, was hesitant," he explained, which didn't make her flattered that he wasn't like that around her, as he'd hoped. It made her angry.

"Well _why? Why _is it so bad to have casual sexual encounters!" she growled. "And why don't you care if I got off with Ron? You hate him!"

"It's not, Hermione. What you do is your business, why should I give a fuck? And I do hate him, but I thought you wouldn't be so loving towards Miss Stoned in there, having canoodled with two people now you don't fancy. It was a way of offering up a balance."

"_Balance? _How is it balanced? You don't make any sense!"

"I assumed that we'd be even if we both banged people we didn't care for."

"What? Why would we need to be even?"  
He gave her a significant look, a sheepish grin on him. She rested her skull on the counter, confused and really irked.  
"Why would you be hesitant about shacking up with somebody so pretty if you're both single?" she prodded, unable to let that thought go.

"It didn't feel right to me."  
_Right _and _Malfoy _were two words Hermione wouldn't have placed in the same sentence. He wasn't giving the same closed off, twisted appearances as she only had recollections of.

"I don't know why you're so calm. You have the nerve to kiss me, after telling me that you made a bet with Theo, and you don't think it appears fishy? Is that why you wanted to hire me? Huh, spill it Malfoy, before I smack you into the Thames," she demanded quietly, expecting him to avoid answering.

"_Yes_, it is why. But I did know you'd do well anyways," he smiled, spinning his glass in his hand. "Blaise made several petty remarks to Theo and I, and he rounded me up to try and get closer to you. Because Blaise despises me, and likes telling his acquaintances and lovers what to do," he drawled.

Hermione was frozen to the spot again. Honesty wasn't something she'd foreseen from him, but then, he was surprising her completely this instance.

"How do I know you're not hiding things now? How do I know if you're being genuine to me? You used to find me repulsive, and even if I considered coming near you, you might just throw this 'conquest' in the ring, so you can have another tally under your belt in this game you're involved in."

Sighing, he laid his head down in the same fashion she had hers, so he could examine her face properly. Then, he ghosted a palm over her bare knee, and tentatively settled it down. His hands were cold, and she shivered from the contact.  
But didn't push him away.

"Granger, if I was the same boy from school, I wouldn't be living in London, and I wouldn't be talking to you at all. I hadn't seen you in years before that boat cruise, and I naively thought I enjoyed goading you for the same juvenile reasons as when I was 12. Maybe I'm still a conniving bastard, but I don't toy with people's emotions. Because it's been done to me too many time before, and I know how much it hurts."  
It was then that she flickered her gaze to him, his vulnerable inflection similar to the one he'd used in his flat to get her to agree to write his contract. Only it was weaker than then, and the softness in his eyes completely transformed the way his usual self-assured features were.

"Truth is, I didn't actually understand until a minute ago that upon seeing you again, not in that pub, but at the Quidditch pitch a month ago, that I felt the need to be guarded because I fancy you. Not because of your blood, or our past lives. Or because your Potter's friend, and you _were _Zabini's girl. I acted the only way I knew how around you, because you still thought me to be a pompous cock. And I probably am. But not _always," _he murmured delicately.

A glimmer of a smile crept onto her lips, and the breath from her barely audible giggle was felt on the tip of his nose. He felt his lungs stop working, and marvelled at how unlucky his stars were to be enchanted by the most inconvenient girl possible. That fact making it all the more tantalizing.

"_You know,_ _you have the most spectacular smile. I don't know how I've never noticed."_

She was surveying him as if he were a particularly nasty exam question.  
Somehow she felt an attraction that hadn't been present when he'd arrived here. Perhaps she was always on the high ground because she sought a vengeance where she only used razor-sharp wit. But he was no different from Harry or Ron in that sense, they all liked to take action, all liked getting even.  
And she recognized that up until now in this moment, they'd both been putting on a front. They'd _always_ been putting on fronts.  
This was the real Draco Malfoy talking.  
This, she concluded, was why Pansy Parkinson was after him so badly.

His thumb was now tracing a pattern, leaving her skin tingly. Slowly, tentatively, she swept stray hairs on his forehead so she could see him a bit clearer. And when she heard his breath catch, her heart imitated his body.

In such a tense, lingering silence, the only thing that can interrupt it is action.  
He found it easy, so _right,_ to inch closer to her until he could plant a soft peck onto her parted mouth. And when again she didn't react, though he had predicted she wouldn't, he got the shock of his life when the next thing he knew, she was wrenching him back to her.  
She tasted deliciously sweet; warm from the wine and her bubbling aggravation. He tasted intoxicating to her, his tongue chilled from the ice in his drink, prickling her senses with hints of whiskey and peppermint toothpaste.  
They had their fingers tangled into each other's hair, and were kissing slowly, with an ardour that went beyond lust.

It was different to them both, than their experiences with Ron and Georgia. It was controlled, and it didn't feel careless, it somehow wasn't mere carnal longing. Because their figures hadn't moved from their seats, everything was focused above the shoulders.

Draco had turned out to be a great snogger, perhaps because he'd had such a long build up to finally want and be able to test his skill. Hermione knew exactly where to caress, and knew how to keep things interesting, a fact that he was prepared for from the way Blaise had bragged about her.

And when they found themselves gasping for air, Hermione was overwhelmed by how lost she'd gotten in him, somehow she'd forgotten where they were. Her dress was lowered, her lingerie exposed. She was on his lap, and felt his chest respiring heavily.  
Then she became afraid, she became her normal worried self.

"So," she panted, folding her arms in disbelief as she adjusted her shirt, "S-so, what does this mean?"

With widened eyes, he laughed incredulously.  
"It means I like you. What does it mean to you?" he questioned, running a hand over his pale hair.

"But….are you wanting to, to, sleep with me? Have an affair?"

"None of those," he confessed. "I've never had a girlfriend, Hermione."

"Yes, Blaise told me. But surely you don't mean _that_," she replied shrilly, turning nearly as white as Draco already was.

"No, well, I don't know," he admitted, his poise noticeably slipping for the first time.

"I don't want to date you, at least, not right this second."

"You're making out with me, isn't that the right place to start?" he inquired, to which she became unnerved. But unnerved was nothing compared to the next phrases he uttered.

"For _dating_? Is that what you do on dates?" she flushed.

"You tell me. What if I told you I've never been on a date. That I've kissed only Pansy and Georgia. And never had sex?"

"I – " she paused, unable to come up with anything that would not be insensitive or respectful.

"Because it's true. That's also why I didn't get it up with Georgia May, but I haven't felt like this in so long, that I wouldn't even if I wasn't pathetic."

"Like this?"

"_Never mind," _he murmured, feeling idiotic, unsure of himself.

"But – is that why Pansy wants you so badly?" she slipped out, to which he shrunk and emitted a tsk of irritation. It would be like Pansy to 'claim him' while he was unsullied, like he was a box that could be ticked.

"You noticed then?" She chose to feign indifference and nodded. "Maybe it is."

"Well why haven't you? I mean –" she corrected at his anguish, "You're obviously not unattractive. I – I think you look nice. And if you can be charming like that, what more does it take, really?"

"Granger, I've been having this chain of thought binding me that I want to shag somebody I date. Who wants to go out with me, though? I torched the bridge at school and locked myself up at home. Nobody finds me amicable, and why would they? I'm Draco Malfoy, pure-blooded scum who should only be seeing somebody in the Slytherin gene pool."

"Okay, but – "

"The reason I stayed at home for so long is because I was going to be _damned _if I ended up like Blaise, or Astoria, or fucking _Theo _once I left. I don't like living a façade, I don't want to be somebody I'm not. I _want _to just do whatever. I spent so long being fake that now I'm free, forcefully anyways, I feel lost. The idea I can just do _anything, try _anything, and talk to whomever is daunting, and why I'm so reserved about getting close to anybody unless they make the first move. It took a lot to even get my wits up to call Georgia. I want to change it."

He didn't know why he was ripping out his soul and laying it to waste in front of this girl, this understanding, intelligent girl. But he was; and she felt compassion.

"Everybody feels similar to that, Draco," she whispered, and before she knew what she was doing, she had wrapped her arms around him in embrace. "Yours is elevated because high society is all based on face. But I get exactly what you mean, and it is horrible. Good for you for trying not to be a part of it. Everybody worries about what people will say or what they'll do if you make a mistake."

Oddly, he wanted to start crying, or yell, _something rash. _But he chose the right decision, and hugged her back, speaking softly.  
"I don't desire the backlash I'd receive from - god forbid – associating with somebody who is 'beneath me' or 'too different' or has been taken, like the way a lot of those idiots have been gossiping about my career path. Which _was_ a fuck you, by the way," he added, and they both chuckled. "But…having you in my life would never be a mistake."

Her grip tightened on him, nails biting into his back.  
And then, seconds later, he was released.

Puzzled, he furrowed his brow at the woman who held him, who appeared so alarmed, he couldn't make words form to ask if she was alright.  
"_Hermione?..."_

"I don't know," she inhaled, finding it very difficult to speak, "if having you in mine _would_ be."

She watched the curves of his lips turn into something much more horrifying than a frown. She watched the muscles contract inwards, as if he was wincing, and the air in the room charged from passionate to cold. _He _felt cold.

"Are you willing to find out?"  
His tone was strained.

"I'm not sure. This is too fast, and it's too soon. Please understand," she beseeched to him.  
Of course he did, but he was used to instant gratification. He was hardly used to such unpleasant rejection based on something that was an honest speculation.

"I understand," he told her in a way that suggested he didn't.

"I'm not saying no, but you are much more courageous than me. See, I don't think anyone dear to me would let you near me, they'd think I'd gone insane," she admitted, and he fought very hard not to smirk. "And I _would _be scared of what they think. I'm already on thin ice from last night."  
She was gathering her old clothes, fumbling with her keys, trying to distract herself.

"So when will I know?"  
But his desperation caused her stomach to tighten with guilt, of letting him snog her and then informing him he couldn't have a chance yet.

"I have your number."

And though these kinds of lines always zinged in television shows as a good exit, Hermione felt like a giant arse as she walked out of the unfamiliar apartment. She couldn't find the inner strength in her to just let herself act how she wanted. She wanted to go back up there and just _kiss _him, and not care about where they stood.  
But the funny thing was, that it did really matter to her, and she was considering letting him in. So she couldn't be rash, because then he'd end up like Ron. Because then she'd have the knowledge that there was a decent person she'd ruined by jumping under the sheets too quickly, especially when he hadn't had a relationship.

She was over thinking everything, and decided she'd walk all the way to Harry's to calm herself. She could still feel his hands on the nape of her neck.

Back in the apartment, Draco had dumped his drink down the drain.  
He knocked on the door and when there was no reply, he let himself into the bedroom and laid next to a comatose Georgia. Waking her up with his rustling movements, she waved away his sorrys and cuddled up next to him.

"_You okay?" _she sighed, half-asleep. "_Hermione still here?"_

He noticed now it was after midnight. They must have been out there melting into one another for at least two hours. It seemed like seconds.

"_I'm fine. No, she's not. Good night," _he soothed, patting her head.

"_Mm_, _night."_  
She shuffled a bit closer to him, enjoying the warmth, and nestled under his chin. He took her caringly, imagining that she had brown curls instead of blonde extensions, shoving a blanket over them as he closed his eyes, completely awake.  
And now he understood exactly how Pansy felt.

{}

They'd broken up for good.  
At least, that's what Lavender had told Ginny, and what Ginny had screamed at Hermione when she made it to Harry and Ron's flat.

It had taken her a few hours to get there, and mother nature decided to pour rain in the middle. So she looked like what the cat dragged in, entering a place containing a disgruntled couple. She'd been hoping that Ginny was back home, and she could speak with just Harry, as he usually stayed up exceedingly late. But they were still together, Ron had declared he would be at the pub if anyone required his presence.  
Her friends weren't terrible people. They set her up with a cup of tea, and dressed her Harry's old pajamas, and then sat her down to talk.

"Where the hell have you been, anyways? Lavender called me _sobbing, _saying that she couldn't let herself date Ron anymore. I thought you'd be there," Ginny asked with constrained anger, to which Harry nudged her.

He may be annoyed at her best friends actions, but it wasn't all Hermione's fault. And she appeared so downtrodden; he hated being pissed off. Ginny was clouded by the fact that her brother was hurt, and couldn't understand why she would cheat when she'd been cheated on recently (or at all).  
Ron was very nice, and was very caring. But he was also impulsive, and Harry had heard and seen him at work when he had an idea in his mind. He'd been so up and down about Hermione that something must've been done in the first place to enable her to abandon her usual logic.

"I left because he wasn't going to talk to her," she said, her voice quiet. "_I _ran into Lavender on the street, and directed her to his location. I told her what happened right away, which may have been the wrong decision. But I _did _do what you suggested, Ginny. God, I'm so stupid."

Head in her hands, Ginny was suddenly distressed by the fact that Hermione was apparently weeping.  
Of course they didn't know that Miss Granger had just fraternized with the enemy, or that he'd acted as anything _but_ evil. She cursed herself for being so upset about the occurrence, for having it happen in the first place. She'd left a mess to create another one, left Ron to have the shittiest weekend of his life.

"Oh….Hermione. I'm sorry, alright. But you and he were _so daft."_

_"_Don't apologize, I'm getting what I deserve for this. I just wish I could do something, _anything_ to fix it. Georgia May, that's who I met up with, tried her damnedest to be there for me, tried to correct her mistake. Only she didn't know about Blaise dating me, and I did know about Ron."

"_Really? _You met up with her?" Ginny pulled a face. "That's odd."

"I figured she might be able to give me advice seeing as we both committed similar crimes."  
The pulled face changed to a surprised approving one.

"That makes sense, actually. Well, at least you feel bad about this. And you did do all you could, right?"

"I explained myself, but maybe I'll write a letter and send her something nice tomorrow. I know I didn't take to her in Hogwarts, but she's really quite sweet. And she made him happy."

"I know," Ginny rubbed her arm soothingly. "It's just that Ron is convinced you would be able to too, isn't he? "

_But I wouldn't, _she thought. _And neither would he me._  
Ron wouldn't make her happy if they tried because he was so indecisive. It might cause such a rift between everything; they didn't hold as much unfailing devotion as Harry and Ginny.  
Blaise didn't make her happy, he only made her feel desirable.

Lamenting over what makes a good relationship, she couldn't get Draco's voice out of her skull: "_When will I know_?"  
She wished _she_ knew. If for certain they'd make each other happy before she dared to be bold, she admitted to herself she would ring him up now.

"I don't want Ron, I stand by what I said."

She didn't know what she wanted.  
She couldn't fathom the idea that a boy who used to vex her was different. That a few smatterings of banter between them was enough to make him like her. It was evident he could still be manipulative, and if he _was _hatching something, she'd never forgive herself or him. She couldn't trust him.

So why then was she still having vivid dreams about that night several weeks later?  
Why did she wake up with the moon still shining in the sky, hot and bothered, in need of some water.  
Was he restless too?

Every morning she'd tell herself she was going to call him and say 'Sorry, but no.' But every morning came and passed, every afternoon, and she did nothing.

Unluckily for her, the nightmare wasn't over.  
At least nobody had leaked that she and Ron shacked up, but thankfully, Lavender wasn't spiteful.  
She was unsure of why she stashed it under her mattress. The magazine that included a smug shot of Draco, a bad one of her, and an unflattering one of Georgia. Pansy had apparently gone to _Witch Weekly _and relayed the _real _story of how Blaise Zabini, famous entrepreneur, cheated. It made Draco out to be some kind of saint, which greatly displeased the woman who revealed the information. But, Hermione guessed, that was due to the fact the piece had been featured in the issue where Draco was on the front, talking about his recent success. They wouldn't slag him off in that one. Sometimes she'd yank it out, re-reading his interview. Staring at his face change from a serious stare to an amused smirk.

Despite these weird secret rituals she'd hidden from everyone, the group had gone back to normal, as normal as they could be anyways.  
Ron and Hermione were awkward around one another, they resolved to get past their mishap. It was difficult though, when they both recalled having vigorous animal sex on the floor in their meeting spot. But Ginny and Harry did their best to pretend like nothing had ever happened, taking them out to safe, friendly venues. And nothing bad had occurred, save for a few drunken phone calls and a few more teary outbursts.  
Hermione had been texting Georgia as distant friends do; Draco had kept discretion, she wasn't aware of the events either.  
She'd sent Lavender a card, and made Ron send her pink roses, as a final 'I'm sorry'.  
The roses were promptly returned. The card had received no reply. All was _almost _well_._

Until one day, the routine was different.

It was August now, and private school term had just begun. Tuesdays were the day Hermione babysat her young cousin, Finlay. Tuesday was her roommates date night.  
Having no siblings, the nine year old essentially acted as a nephew she'd never have. Hermione was happy to help out Leah, one of her closest relatives, and a single mum with two jobs. A night off to go out or relax was much appreciated.  
Her standard procedure of going to the office, working hard and returning home an hour early was much the same. She prepared the meal he always requested, peanut butter and jelly with chocolate milk, in advance so she could set up the pull out couch in front of the telly. She would take him to school in the morning, he liked to watch a movie before bed.

"Hermione! Guess what I made for you today!"  
It was 4:30, and he had bounced in, hands sticky from spilled fruit punch, clutching a crumpled drawing in his little hands. Handing it to her, she took his empty juice box and the paper. It was of the two of them walking through Hyde Park in neon Crayola markers.

It was difficult to reign in a bouncy child full of energy, so she took him for 'adventures' on the tube to see fountains and playgrounds. Tuckering him out and so he could get some exercise

"Another masterpiece? You know I'm going to have to start an art gallery. Maybe you'll be famous one day," she smiled, bending down for a hug.

"You think so? I was just saying to mummy that it would be grand if I could be one of those men with those tall hats that drive carriages with lovey dovey people in them."  
Leah rolled her eyes and giggled, thanking her as usual for being so helpful.

Leah was a high school teacher, and worked weekends and some nights at a convenience store. She looked exhausted as she came inside the flat, but was dressed up to go to dinner with her mates.

"You're such a star, eh? Think I'd lose me head if I didn't get a load off," she squeezed Hermione's hand while sighing in her Scottish brogue. "Give us a kiss, now Finlay, and _behave."_

"Promise!" he sang, jumping into her arms and planting a big smooch on her cheek. "Bye mam, enjoy your curries!"

"See you later," Leah winked, waving her way out.

"Now that she's gone," Finlay sighed dramatically, plopping onto a chair. "May I please have some choccy biscuits? You're the only one who lets me eat them, dumb academy."

Hermione found his tenacity and taste for rebellion reminiscent of Sirius, and hoped one day they would meet. Presently, he was throwing off his blazer and his button up to reveal his black t-shirt printed with "Han Shot First."

"Get out your homework, and once you've started, you can have some. You better eat your sandwich though, you know I buy raspberry jam just for you," she teased, to which he squeed in glee.

It was around six when he finished, constantly asking for clarification regarding math and now reciting his language arts journal entry assignment to her. She adored aiding him, it was nice to be useful to somebody who actually was interested in what you had to say.

They settled down for dinner, always joining him in eating his swanky cuisine.

Meanwhile, Draco was sitting in Southampton, at the club, by himself. He was invited by Miles, but a German witch had managed to spark enough interest that he was chatting her up.  
Sipping some Irish whiskey, indifferent to the fact it was still early, he found himself watching Theo and Astoria, their subtle couple-y gestures something he hadn't noticed until lately. Why a beautiful girl like her considered dating such a weasel like him was beyond his comprehension, but for the first time he was envious. Evidently, Theo _could_ do some things right.

It didn't help that while solitary, when he needed company, most were avoiding him. Theo gave him a meaningful look when he walked in, but otherwise stayed away. Pansy was shooting daggers at him across the room, same with Blaise. Nobody in the circle really gave a shit that he cheated, especially since they didn't care about Hermione at all. They _did_ however, find it interesting that a Malfoy was getting close to a famous muggle model, one that Blaise deemed worthy enough to shag.  
In all this, Sergei was absent, and Draco dreaded the answer as to why.

He'd locked himself up in his home these days, throwing himself fully into work, networking with everybody he could. He only came out this afternoon because he had free time, and didn't like where his mind wandered when there was nothing to occupy it. Georgia was on vacation right now, a last minute trip with her father before returning for fall semester.

Unable to stand the sensation of burning gazes on scalp, he stood up in his excessively non-wizard clothing, and marched onto the verranda, to see the swans glide in the lake.

After a few peaceful minutes, he felt a hand tap on his back.

"Y'alright, Malfoy?"  
Miles was beaming like he'd been bludgered, leaning over the railing to chat. He slipped a number into his trousers before paying attention to his schoolmate.

"Eh."

"Haven't seen you in a while. You seem pretty down. Blaise giving you a hard time?"

Draco didn't show it, but he was surprised at what he'd just been asked. What exactly had Blaise been saying behind his back?

"No. Which scares me more than anything, really. Just been out of sorts, been busy," he muttered, not bothering at discretion because Miles was one of thew few non-vile people that were in his ring. He was always much too high to be a dick.

"Been sleeping much? Anything wrong, Draco? It must be annoying to have all these jerks sizing you up and criticizing you."

Flicking his lighter to smoke a fag, he handed one graciously to Miles and exhaled the smoke before he decided to speak. "If I tell you, you probably won't believe me."

"Try me," Miles challenged, beckoning him with his free hand to go for promenade round the sunny grounds, a detail that didn't go unnoticed by Miss Parkinson in the corner.

So sitting under a tree, with Miles burning a doob, something gauche in the club, he told with slightly ambiguous details the tale of his crazy night in July, about the bet, about his falling out, and the day Zabini got taken down a peg.  
When he got to the part about making out with Hermione, Miles jaw gaped open.

"_Holy fuck, _man. You're crazy! Does he know? Is that why he's been in a foul mood 24/7?"

"No, I don't think so. He was _livid _that I informed Pansy of the details of his offense. He's been making idle threats, or else, he's planning something big. I'm certain that shit in _Witch Weekly _was her doing, actually. I almost want to throw her off the cliff and into his shark pool, but I'm tired."

"Integrity, friend. Yeah, she's been getting really pissy. I suspect she got into a fight with Sergei, which adds to it all. She's been slagging you off nonstop," he chuckled, laying down in the cool grass, stomping the cherry with his foot.

"_Ugh. _I wish I hadn't yelled at her, but it's too late to say sorry now."

"It is….well what're going to do about Hermione? Do you like her? Was it a lapse in sanity, maybe a sudden urge for revenge?"

Draco bumped his head against the trunk, staring up into the branches, watching the green leaves rustle in the breeze.  
"I tried to convince myself of that, but it's a lie. It was such a feeling of, of _clarity, _when I understood that I – that I wanted to kiss her. I can't stop thinking about her. It's the most ridiculous thing."

Miles, who was coughing, tried to focus on this man beside him, who up until now had acted like a kid. He remembered Draco as being a mouthy little prat in school, entertaining nonetheless. He remembered him being a cock to Hermione – and everyone else – but maybe all those things parents used to say were right; maybe you picked on people you fancied.

"You can't help who you fall for. And as I recall, you aren't well versed in the land of lasses. She's a proper lady, that one, I can't blame you. Maybe in Hogwarts you would've been out of line. Now it's cause old Blaise had her 'first', but she deserves somebody who's going to actually love her, not _allow _her to be in their life."

"What are you saying?"  
He wasn't looking for suggestions or pity, but he wasn't necessarily unhappy to receive that.

"I'm saying you dolt, go fucking get her! You know where she lives, don't wait for her to give you the go ahead. You messed her about in the past, it's up to you to prove your worth, not her."

This idea had crossed his mind millions of times, once the first week of no confirmation or rejection went by. And the same anxiety swallowed him each time it did.

"I cant get past the thought of Ginny Weasley being home when I go. Fuck, maybe the Weasel himself will be. Or worse, _Potter," _he grimaced.

_"_Well, what if they aren't?"

"_I don't know,_" he replied defeated. "I wouldn't even know what to say."

"'Date me, Hermione. Give me a chance!'" Miles sung, throwing his hands up as if he were in a play. "Bring her a carnation, no, bring her a book, and a love letter."

"We're not bloody 15 years old," Draco snickered.

"Yeah, but didn't we have a nice reckless abandon that was so romantic at that age?Remember when Marcus Flint was so hopelessly enamoured with Gemma Farley that he wrote her a poem and recited it in the dungeons? You know she acted like it was funny, but deep down, she loved it. Like, _go for it. _It's lame and cheesy, but it's nice, eh?"

"I suppose," he agreed, laughing at the memory.  
If he was right about Hermione, then perhaps, unlike the Slytherin stock, a Gryffindor girl would appreciate the effort. And not see it as weakness.

"You're not just completely blazed right, and talking out your arse, are you?"  
Peeking through his bangs, he hadn't been bothered to style it like usual, Miles grinned sheepishly.

"I am, but I'm serious. And you know it's good advice. You can beat me up if it doesn't work. And if she rejects you, at least you know where you stand. Clearly she`s just as frightened as you if she didn't tell you to stuff it straight away."

Somehow, maybe he had a contact high, he found he had some strange courageousness out of thin air.

He brushed off his legs as he stood up, clutching his wand with one shaking hand in his pocket. Before he went, he took the flask he'd stowed away, chugging down the rum within it, shuddering at the sharp taste.

"Wish me luck," he said.

"I wish you luck," Miles bid. "Let me know how it goes."

With a 'will do', he disaparated into the lobby of Granger's home, narrowly avoiding a resident in his haste. There was only a short span to back down from his nerve, but he decided not to be spineless, or conniving.  
He wanted with every fibre of his being to see her, to get his answer. So he went to the elevator.

Ten floors up in the Kilburn apartment complex, Finlay was setting up the dvd player. Hermione always joined him in whatever film he selected, even though he picked the same series every damn time.  
She'd just hung his uniform to dry, while he got on his nightclothes. She let her hair down from the severe bun she reserved for work, and changed into cloth shorts and a black camisole, microwaving some popcorn to munch on.

When there was a hesitant knock at the front, she was expecting, at 7:30, for it to be Leah. Hoping it wasn't an emergency, perhaps her plans fell through, perhaps he'd forgotten something from home, it could've been a modicum of reasons. Worry set in her stomach, but she instructed Finlay to pop in the disc.

Opening up, she nearly dropped the bowl she was holding, and narrowly avoided swearing.  
"What are you doing here?" she hissed at Draco Malfoy, who was forlorn and cute, as she jumped behind her door, her body not exactly decent.

He had on a white Rolling Stones shirt, and beige jeans. He was dressed casual, and his hair was different; better. No, this wouldn't do. She wanted him in a suit, standoffish, and surrounded by Slytherins.

"I – " he faltered, craning his neck to see if anyone was in.

"I'm babysitting, Ginny isn't here!" she groaned, inviting him reluctantly in. "Well, come on. I'm grabbing a sweater, give me a moment."

"Who's at the door, Hermione?"

Pitter-pattering into the kitchen, Hermione wanted to tear out her hair at this massive inconvenience.  
"My- uh – friend, Finlay. Hold on, sweetheart."

Faced with a freckled little muggle chap, with bright eyes, Glaswegian accent and a mop of auburn tresses, Draco did the only thing he knew how; he introduced himself.  
"Finlay? I'm Draco, hi." He waved, a bit self-consciously. He never had experience with children. "Nice to meet you."

"Thanks, Draco. Is that Finnish or something? Your name, I mean. You have really white hair," he commented, making his way back to the couch, launching himself belly first onto it.

Amused by this cheeky child, Draco smirked as he kicked off his boots and crawled onto the pull-out with him, crossing his legs.

"Did I say you could come here?" Finlay asked, and then giggled at this bloke's falling expression." You're too easy, I'm only joking."

"Oh," he breathed a sigh of relief. "Guess I need to make sure I ask for permission."

"You bet you do! Why are you here so late?" Finlay asked, staring directly into his eyes that unsettling way children seem to do. Draco snickered, liking that he thought eight was late. "Hermione wasn't expecting anyone."

"I needed to tell her something, it couldn't wait I'm afraid."

"Well it better be good, don't make her sad. Or I'll be sad! She's the only one who lets me eat biscuits."

"Is she? I can't promise you that she won't be upset, but I can promise you you'll always have your biscuits if she allows you them."

"I don't want her all weepy, that's mean. Be careful won't you? Geez, how long does it take get a sweater?" he wondered, anxiously bopping with the remote to press play.

"I promise I'll be careful….Sorry I'm ruining your movie," he stated to a screen that had gold script: "A long time ago, in a galaxy far away…"

"It's just the beginning. Do you like Star Wars then?" Finlay bounced, face lighting up.

"Oh, I – I've never seen it, actually."

"WHAT!?"  
Never had he seen somebody so young with such a mad expression, as if Draco had _surely_ lied.

"What's wrong?" Hermione came out alarmed, the long grey cardigan she was wearing making her look adorable.

"He's never seen Star Wars! How is that humanly possible?" he asked, slapping his hands to his face and pulling down so his eyelids drooped. "We gotta start from number four then. He won't get the rest."

"I really do like him," Draco pointed, causing nothing from Hermione, who was stewing over the fact that Draco had made himself cozy, when she was so uncomfortable she couldn't even sit down.

"Why does everyone say that when they're laughing at me?" he asked, shuffling to switch the films. Hermione met her gaze to her guest, turning away when he smiled to convey how great her cousin was. "Do you have popcorn ready? Pleeeassseeee?"

"Yes, right. Sorry."  
Walking to the small dining room, she attempted to ease her mind.

"Thanks!" Finlay snatched the snack, lying back again, sipping his water as he wasn't allowed soda or too much sugar after hours.

"Draco, can you come to my room to discuss whatever it is you're here for?"  
She asked it pleasantly, knowing why he came, absolutely terrified.

"Can't Draco stay and watch it with us? He's never seen it! Do you even know about the force?" He was very sombre. When Draco shook his head, Finlay gave a disgusted '_uh'!'. _"Plebeian."

Shaking with merriment, Draco got up and allowed Hermione to enter her quarters first. She opted to stand as she slid the door shut, wanting this over ASAP. Candles were lit everywhere, she didn't want to turn on the lamps, have to catch every change in his facial features as they spoke.

"You know, I really didn't know kids could be so hilarious," he said in her silence.

"Yes, he's quite the character," she admitted, gaze glued to the ground.

"He's your nephew? How old is he?"

"Uh, nine. And my cousin. My cousin's son," she clarified, wondering why he even cared.

"He's precious," he noted, his sentiments genuine.

"Draco, I still don't know if I want to give it a try," she cut to the chase, thickening the air in the place, causing his mouth to pout. "I know that's why you're here. I just – I…"

"I can't get you out of my head."  
Out of anything he'd ever said, this threw her so far off, she might as well have been in outer space.

"_You can't?"  
_He closed in on her, grabbing both her hands together.

"I've been trying to forget about you, and that night, claim it as a one-off. Yet I wasn't drunk, I know you were nearly there. I don't care though. It's like I'm a teenager again. The switch was flipped and it's broken now. Maybe I won't like you if we went out, but right now I do; the 'what if' is driving me insane."

She couldn't move. She couldn't imagine why he'd grow to like her so much.

"Hermione, please look at me," he begged, and when he saw her swallow hard with difficulty, he dropped to his knees so she was forced to. "Everything that's keeping you from me is my fault. As Miles pointed out to me, if I want this to work, I need to be the initiator. If you don't want me, that's fine. I just need you to set me straight."

"Merlin, Draco, why do you play the sympathy card so well?" she snarled, bronze eyes wide with frustration.

"I'm not trying to!" he defended himself, as she wrenched herself away and fell onto her duvet. "I don't know what to do. Usually I'm calculated and self-assured, but like, I actually don't want to harm you in any way, do I? I'm not going to scheme if it might cause you pain."

With that same effrontery he had when he invaded her privacy the last time he was here, he sat down next to her, trying not to notice the sliver of skin that was exposed as her shirt rode up as she lay.

"I just want a chance," he admitted when again she did refuse to speak. "Or for you to tell me to bugger off. I'd expected you to by now."

"Fuck, just shut the hell up!"  
He felt himself shrink back, but then he was being pushed backwards onto his spine, and Hermione was straddling his waist.

"_Just," _she growled through gritted teeth, "_shut up." _She removed the cardigan she took so long to retrieve.

"_What about – "  
_She put her index to his lips, before snogging him in a manner that was anything but polite. Grinding against his trousers, she wanted to scream as he was erect almost immediately. She loved the way he stroked the back of her neck, the way he scratched her back so gently. She loved how he was the complete opposite she imagined.

And he loved the way she moaned into him, and slithered her way expertly over his body. Of course he'd never had this experience before, but he knew nobody would be like her if he had.

"So," he stopped her, smirking like he'd triumphed over everything, "what does this mean?"

Hitting his chest, she let escape a strangled titter as she conceded; "We can go out, once, to see if it works. And if it doesn't, well, I'll admit to myself that I'll be a bit disappointed."

Elation stuffing his very heart until it burst, in a fit of happiness he flipped her over so he was on top, kissing her frantically, trailing his hand down to her hip, the other caressing her cheek.  
"_Or maybe a lot,"_ she breathed when he, in an experiment, nibbled on her ear lobe.

Minutes passed, and orchestral music startled them out of their make out session, faces rouged, slightly ruffled. Walking out back to Finlay, they joined him to cries of the fact they missed the opening explanation.

Not wanting to give her dear cousin too much to talk about, she let Finlay rest his head on her legs, while she held on tight to Draco's calve, which was outstretched next to her. Throughout the film, he attempted to rouse her by subtly massaging her shoulders, or going for her tits. He liked trying to make her react to it, and she had to disclose that she liked the way he teased.

"Are you paying attention, Draco? See the gold one? That's 3PO, he's a good guy, the smart one. Same with the little blue and white one; R2D2 – Hey!"  
Draco snapped his gaze from Hermione's to the screen, apologizing profusely, and making real effort to do what Finlay requested. He knew a happy cousin would ensure a happy Granger.

"You like the Sith then, or the Jedi's?" he asked as they were halfway done, to which the small boy scoffed.

"You're such a noob! Everyone likes the good guys! Who wouldn't want to be a Jedi? Who likes the bad guys?"

"Sometimes the bad guys aren't _so _bad," Hermione expressed, and while Finlay made his case against her words (Jabba the Hut, the Emperor as some), she felt a peck on her exposed collar.

"…..wrong, Hermione! Do you like the Sith, Draco?"

"I like the ones in the middle of it, I like Han Solo. People aren't just good or bad, are they? They're a mix of both."

"That's true I guess," Finlay agreed, quietly. "You're smart, you are."

"I try," he responded, ruffling his red hair, getting brushed off immediately.

"My mum will kill you! Need to be proper for school," he mocked his mother's voice. "Ah, whatever, bunch of _fools_."

"_Finlay," _Hermione scolded, trying not to giggle.

"Wot, it's the truth! Always tellin' me what to do. Now, you tell _me_ the truth. Do you like each other, then? You two. Been googly-eyed all the film."

"A lot, apparently" Draco did not waver to answer. "At least on my end."

Hermione neither denied it or confirmed it, just grinned, which was enough for her cousin.  
"Yeah, she does too."

They finished off Episode IV, Finlay succumbing to slumber close to the end. Draco pecked at Hermione through the credits, moving away to let her tuck him in, admiring the way she was so tender with him, so patient, when moments ago she'd been so controlling. If it had been anybody he knew taking care of Finlay, they'd have told him to stop asking questions, stifle him because he was so young.

"I have work in the morning. What day are you free?"

"Any day, up to you," he spluttered, hitting himself because since when had he turned into such a sap?

"Friday then? Ginny is going to have a heart attack, should prepare her for it," she tried to sound indifferent, but he could tell she was nervous.

"Friday is fine. I'll pick you up? I can meet you somewhere if you'd prefer to keep it secret."

"I might, please don't hold it against me," she pleaded, dragging him to leave. "I'll call you, okay? No, I mean it."

"Pinky swear?" he asked, offering up his finger.

"You're absurd."  
But she sealed her promised by intertwining their hands, leaning in for a kiss goodbye.

"A bit."

"Bye, Draco."

"Bye."  
It took him far too long to lace up his shoes, hoping she'd ask him to stay so he didn't have to leave for a big empty bedroom.

But he remembered the existence of muggle technology once he got a call in his flat, and as she brushed her teeth, she received a message from him. The _ding_ surprising her_._

_Sweet dreams xx, _it said.

She could feel her ribcage tighten, a few letters managing to warm her insides.  
Maybe, like today, he would surprise her.  
It was still too soon to tell whether or not he was upright, and that he'd changed.  
But he'd made a damn good start.


End file.
